Deirdire and the lay of the children of Uisne

MR. MALCOLM CAMPBELL

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DEIRDIRE

AND

THE LAY OF THE CHILDREN
OF UISNE

Orally Collected in the Island of Barra, and
Literally Translated by

ALEXANDER CARMICHAEL, LL.D.

PAISLEY: ALEXANDER GARDNER

LONDON (KENSINGTON):
KENNETH MACKENZIE

DUBLIN: HODGES, FIGGIS & CO.
1914

Second Hdition

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DEIRDIRE

AGUS
LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

Sgriobhta bho bheulachas ann am Barraidh

agus eadar-theangaichte le

ALASDAIR MACGILLEMHICHEIL, LL.D

PAISLIG: ALASDATR GARDNER

LUNNAIN (KENSINGTON):
COINNEACH MACCOINNICH

BAILE-ATHA-CLIATH :
HODGES, FIGGIS & AN CUIDEACHD

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CONTENTS

INTRODUCTORY .
DEIRDIRE

LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE
(LAY OF THE CHILDREN OF UISNE)

NoTES

PAGE

135

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INTRODUCTORY

Tue story of Deirdire was written down
on 16th March 1867, from the recital
of John Macneill, known as ‘ Iain Donn,’
brown John, cottar at Buaile-nam-
bodach in the island of Barra, The
reciter said that he was then eighty-
three years of age—‘ the same age as
General Macneill, were he living, the
last of the ancient Macneills of Barra.’
John Macneill was rather under than
over medium height, wonderfully well
featured and well proportioned, and
possessed an active perceptive mind.
He was not known as a reciter of

tales, but his brother Alexander was.
3

4 DEIRDIRE

Alexander Macneill was rather over
middle height, well featured and well
proportioned, with large, blue, beautiful
eyes. He was a famous ‘seanchaidh’—
reciter, and a practised dictater, having
dictated many tales to Mr. Iain F.
Campbell of Islay, Mr. Hector Maclean,
Islay, and the present writer, all of
which, however, were but a small part
of the wonderful volume of old lore that
died with him.

The following conversation occurred
between Alexander Macneill and the
writer. ‘I have taken down a good
tale from John your brother, Alex-
ander. ‘Indeed, with your leave,
John my brother never had a tale,
unless he might have had a fragment
of one. He never could take a tale
in, and he never could give a tale out.
You never, by your leave, saw a man

INTRODUCTORY 5

going to recite who had less gumption
than John my brother. He would
not take tales with him, and he
would not give forth tales, yet for all —
that he would be at scraps of lore.’
‘This tale that John gave me is very
good, but he was not willing to give
it to me at all since he did not have it
right. He was saying that he had only
bits of it.’ ‘ What is the name of the
tale, if you please?’ ‘It is “ Deirdire,
daughter of Colum Cruitire.”’ ‘There
is a good tale there indeed, a beautiful
tale. It was with myself that John
heard that tale, but he did not have
it right at all—he only took bits of
it with him. I went one night to
“ceilidh” to the house of John. He
was telling that story to people who
were in before I arrived. I listened to
him as long and as patiently as I could,

6 DEIRDIRE

and, Mary Mother! it was not easy for
me to listen to my own brother spoiling
the good story. There was vexation
upon me for the bad treatment of the
good tale, but I was keeping check on
myself; but at last I could keep check
on myself no longer, and I rose softly
and dumbly and I left the house and I
returned home. The tale of Deirdire
is a good tale, and I have the whole of
it from beginning to end, and I will
give you every word of it if you wish it,
and I would like to give it to you before
I go.’ ‘TI have no time on this occasion
to write the tale of Deirdire, Alexander,
but the next time I come to Barra
perhaps I will have more time.’ ‘ Your
own will, but Deirdire is a good story,
and I would like to give you it before
I go. There was a lay on Deirdire,
too, but I have not the lay. I never

INTRODUCTORY 7

took a lay or a song with me. You
will not get the lay now from any one
in Barra unless you get it from Donald
the smith at Breubhaig; I heard that
Donald had it. And you will not get
the tale from any one in Barra now but
from myself, unless the fragments that
you got from John my brother.’

The story of Deirdire and the Chil-
dren of Uisne belongs to the Cuchulain
cycle of Gaelic sagas. It is one of
the ‘three sorrows of story - telling,’
the other two being the story of the
Children of Lir and the story of the
Children of Tuirenn.

The people of the Highlands have
retained more of the tales of the Fiann
cycle, while the people of Ireland have
retained more of the tales of the
Cuchulain cycle. The present is, I
believe, the only version of this tale

8 DEIRDIRE

that has been taken down from oral
sources in Scotland. It was printed in
the Transactions of the Gaelic Society of
Inverness, volumes xiii. and xiv., and
has since been translated into French
and German. Those who are acquainted
with our Gaelic tales will not fail to
notice the quiet restraint and freedom
from exaggeration of this story. The
dignity of all the principal characters,
and especially of Deirdire herself, is
well matched by the dignified and
simple yet highly idiomatic diction of
the long-descended tale. In the word-
ing of the tale two things call for
special mention. Professor Mackinnon
has pointed out that the duplication
of ‘tri tiura pog’ (when Deirdire and
Naoise meet, p. 56) indicates that when
the word ‘ tiura,’ ‘ teora,’ was becoming
obsolete the reciter added the modern

INTRODUCTORY 9

equivalent ‘ tri’—three, by way of ex-
planation. Again Professor Mackinnon
solves the term ‘ drochaid shaor’ (p. 90),
to which neither reciter nor collector »
could give any clue, as being a cor-
ruption of ‘tricha cet,’ a measure of
land.

The lay which comprises the second
part of this volume gives a different
version of the story and of the manner
of death of Deirdire and of the sons of
Uisne from that of the prose tale.

The illustration at the beginning of
this volume is the much appreciated

oift of Mr. John Duncan, A.R.S.A.

NOTE TO THE SECOND EDITION

In this edition some slight corrections
are made in the text and some additions
are made to the notes.

DEIRDIRE

I

Bua fear ann an Ejirinn uair ris an
canaidhte Colum Cruitire. Bha an
duine na dhuine coir agus cuid mhath
de chuibhrionn an t-saoghail aige. Bha
bean aige, ach cha robh duine teagh-
laich orra. Rainig am fear agus a’ bhean
aois mhor, air alt agus nach robh duil
aca ri duine sliochd gu brath.

Ciod e chuala Colum Cruitire ach gu’n
robh fiosaiche air tighinn dachaidh dha
’n aite, agus bho ’n a bha an duine na
dhuine coir bha toil aige gu’n tigeadh
am fiosaiche faisge daibh. Ge b’ e co

dhiu chuireadh fios air no thainig e leis
10

DEIRDIRE
I

THERE was once a man in Eirin of the
name of Colum Cruitire—Colum the
Harper. The man was a worthy man,
and he had a goodly portion of worldly
means. He had a wife, but the hus-
band and wife had no children. The
husband and wife reached a great age,
and therefore they had no expectation
of children for ever.

What should Colum Cruitire hear
but that a soothsayer was come home
to the place, and, as the man was a
hospitable man, he had a wish that
the soothsayer should come near them.
Whether it was that he was asked to

ll

12 DEIRDIRE

fein, thainig am fiosaiche dh’ ionnsaidh
tigh Choluim Chruitire.

‘Am bheil thu a’ deanamh fiosachd 2’
orsa Colum Cruitire. ‘Tha mia’ dean-
amh beagan. Am bheil fiosachd ’g ad
do dhith 2’ ors’ am fiosaiche. ‘ An ta,
tha mi coma ged a ghabhainn fiosachd
uait, na ’m bitheadh fiosachd agad domh,
agus gum b’ e do thoil a deanamh.’
‘Ma ta, ni.mise fiosachd duit. Ciod e
an seorsa fiosachd a ta uait?’ ‘An
ta, bha fiosachd uam fhein thu dh’
innseadh domh mo chor, no gu de bha
ri eirigh domh, na ’m faodadh tu
fiosrachadh a thoirt domh air.’ ‘An
ta, tha mi dol a mach, agus an uair
a thilleas mi steach cuiridh mi ceist
riut’; agus chaidh am fiosaiche mach
as an tigh. |

Cha robh am fiosaiche fada mach an
uair a thill e steach. ‘An robh duine

DEIRDIRE 13

come, or that he was come of his own
accord, the soothsayer came to the
house of Colum Cruitire.

‘ Art thou making soothsaying?’ said
Colum Cruitire. ‘I am making a little;
art thou seeking soothsaying?’ said
the soothsayer. ‘ Well, I do not mind
should I take soothsaying from thee
if thou hast soothsaying for me, and
that thou wouldst be pleased to make
it.’ ‘Well, I will make thee sooth-
saying. What kind of soothsaying
dost thou wish to have?’ ‘ Well, the
soothsaying that I myself would wish
to have would be to know my con-
dition, and what was to happen to me,
were it permissible for thee to tell
me. ‘ Well, I am going out, and when
I come in I will put a question to
thee, and the soothsayer went out
of the house.

The soothsayer was not long out
when he returned into the house.

14 DEIRDIRE

teaghlaich ort riamh?’ ors’ am_ fios-
aiche ri Colum Cruitire. ‘An ta,
cha robh,’ orsa Colum Cruitire; ‘cha
robh duine sliochd orm fhein no air
an te ta agam riamh, agus cha’n ’eil
duil-a’m gu’m bi gu brath. Cha’n ’eil
agam ach mi fhein agus mo bhean.’
‘Ma ta,’ ors’ am fiosaiche, ‘tha sin
a’ cur neonachais orm fhein, agus mi
faicinn anns an dailgneachd agam gur
ann mu dheighinn nighinne duit is
mutha dhoirtear a dh’ fhuil a dhoirt-
eadh riamh ann an Eirinn, o chionn
re agus linn. Agus ni na tri olaich
is ainmeile bha riamh ri fhaighinn an
cinn a chall air a tailibh.’ ‘An e sin
fiosachd a tha thu a’ deanamh domh ?’
orsa Colum Cruitire le feirge, agus e
saoilsinn gu’n robh am fiosaiche fanaid
air. ‘An ta, is e,’ ors’ am fiosaiche.
‘An ta, ma’s e sin fiosachd a ta thu
deanamh domh faodaidh tu a cumail
agad fhein; cha mhor is d’ fhiach thu

DEIRDIRE 15

‘Hadst thou ever any offspring?’ said
the soothsayer to Colum Cruitire.
‘Well, no,’ said Colum Cruitire, ‘ there
has never been offspring upon me or —
upon her whom I have, nor do I expect
there ever shall be. I have only myself
and my wife.’ ‘Well,’ said the sooth-
sayer, ‘that surprises me much, and
that I see in my augury that it is
about a daughter of thine that the
greatest amount of blood will be spilt
that has been spilt in Kirin for genera-
tions and ages past. And the three
heroes of the greatest renown in the
land shall lose their lives on her
account.’ ‘Is that the soothsaying
that thou art making me?’ said Colum
Cruitire with anger, he thinking that
the soothsayer was mocking him.
‘Well, it is,’ said the soothsayer.
‘Well, if that be the soothsaying that
thou art making me, thou mayst keep
it to thyself, for neither thou thyself

16 DEIRDIRE

fein no do chuid fiosachd, agus bi gabh-
ail rathaid eile. ‘An ta,’ ors’ am
fiosaiche, ‘tha mise ga do dheanamh
cinnteach gu leoir as sud; tha mi ga
fhaicinn sud gle riochdail a’ m’ inntinn
fein.’ ‘An ta, orsa Colum Cruitire,
‘chan urrainn sin cinneachadh; tha
mise agus mo bhean aois mhor, air
chor agus nach urrainn gu’m bi duine
sliochd gu brath oirnn. Chan ’eil mi
a’ diteadh d’ fhiosachd—cha’n ’eil coir
agam air—ach sud an ni as am bheil mi
cinnteach, nach robh agus nach bi duine
sliochd orm fhein no air mo mhnaoi gu
brath. Ach foghnaidh sud; tuilleadh
cha sir agus cha ghabh mise bho ’n a
rinn thu an fhiosachd gun doigh.’ Agus
leig Colum Cruitire am fiosaiche air falbh,

ma thug no nach d’ thug e baidse da.

Dh’ fhalbh am fiosaiche. Cha b’ e
sin ri ailis air an sgeul, ach cha robh
am fiosaiche fada air falbh an uair a

DEIRDIRE 17

nor thy soothsaying is worth much, and
be thou taking another road.’ ‘ Well,’
said the soothsayer, ‘I make thee sure
enough of that; I see it in clear form
in my own mind. ‘Well,’ said Colum
Cruitire, ‘that cannot come to pass; I
and my wife are of great age, so that it
is not possible that there ever shall be
offspring upon us. I do not revile thy
soothsaying—I have no right to do
that; but that is the thing of which
I am sure, that there never has been
and that there never shall be offspring
upon me or upon my wife. But that will
suffice; more of thy soothsaying I will
neither seek nor receive, since thou hast
made the soothsaying without sense.’
And Colum Cruitire allowed the sooth-
sayer to go away, whether he did or
did not give him a gift.

The soothsayer went away. That is
not deriding the story, but the sooth-
sayer was not long away when the wife

B

18 DEIRDIRE

thoisich bean Choluim Chruitire ri fas
trom. Agus mar bha ise fas leth-
tromach bha eise fas doltromach, agus
e diumbach, dorranach deth fhein nach
do rinn e an corr seanchais ris an fhios-
aiche ri linn da bhi ’na chainnt. Bha
Colum Cruitire fo smuairein la agus fo
chnamhan oidhche nach robh ann fhein
ach duine gun doigh, gun tuigse, agus
e gun chaomh charaid, gun chul-taic
aige ris an t-saoghal, agus na ’n tigeadh
an turlach so air a nis—ni bha coltach
gun tigeadh—agus e fhein cho fada
’n a aghaidh an toiseach. Bhae nis a’
creidsinn gu’n tigeadh a’ h-uile dad gu
crich mar a chunnaic am fiosaiche anns
an dailgneachd, agus bha e fo champar
agus fo chas. Cha robh fios aige de
aon doigh an domhan a dheanadh e gus
an dortadh fala so a chur seachad air an
tir; agus is e an smaoin a chinnich ’n a
cheann na ’n cuireadh Ni-math an urra
bha so air aghaidh thun an t-saoghail—

DEIRDIRE 19

of Colum Cruitire began to grow
heavy. And as she grew more heavy
he grew more dolorous, and vexed
at himself that he did not make more
conversation with the soothsayer the
time he was talking to him. Colum
Cruitire was under pain by day and
care by night, that he himself was but
a man without sense, without know-
ledge, without trusted friend, without
back-support in the world, and should
this burden come upon him now, a
thing likely to come, and he himself so
much against it at first. He now be-
lieved that everything would come to
pass as the soothsayer saw in his
augury, and he was in sore distress and
in dismay. He did not know of one
way in the wide world that he would
do to ward off the spilling of blood from
the land, and it was the thought that
grew in his head that, should the Good
Being send this infant into the world—

20 DEIRDIRE

ni bha coltach gu’n cuireadh—gur h-ann
a dh’ fheumadh e a cur air falbh fad
as, far nach faiceadh suil sealladh di,
agus far nach cluinneadh cluas gabadh
oirre.

Dhluthaich an so 4m a h-asaid air
bean Choluim Chruitire, agus thugadh
i thun na leaba-lair. Dh’ asaideadh am
boirionnach agus rug i leanabh nighinne.
Cha do leig Colum Cruitire duil bheo
dachaidh thun an tighe aige a thoirt
aire d’ a mbnaol, ach a’ bhean-
ghlun i fem. Chuir Colum Cruitire
an sin ceist ris a bhoirionnaich so
an gabhadh i fein a mhentil ris an
leanabh a thoirt a nios, agus a cumail
am falach fad air falbh far nach faiceadh
suil sealladh di agus far nach cluinneadh
cluas guth mu deighinn. Thuirt am
boirionnach gun gabhadh, agus gun
deanadh i an dichioll a b’ fhearr a b’
urrainn di.

Fhuair an sin Colum Cruitire triuir

DEIRDIRE 21

a thing that He was likely to send—that
he himself would need to put her away
to a far-off place, where no eye would
see a sight of her, and where no ear
would hear a sound of her.

Now the time of her delivery drew
upon the wife of Colum Cruitire, and
she was brought to the floor-bed. The
woman was delivered, and she brought
forth an infant girl. Colum Cruitire
did not allow a living creature to come
home to his house, to give attendance
to his wife, but the knee-woman alone.
Colum Cruitire then put a question to
this woman if she herself would under-
take to bring up the child, and to keep
her in hiding far away, where no eye
could see sight of her, and where no ear
could hear word about her. The woman
said she would, and that she would
make her utmost efforts.

Then Colum Cruitire got three men,

22 DEIRDIRE

fhear, agus thug e leis air falbh iad gu
monadh mor falachaidh fad o laimh,
gun fhios, gun fhath, gun fhaireachadh
do neach air bith. Thug e ma-near ann
an sin cnoc cruinn, gorm, a threachailt
as a bhroinn, agus an cds a chomhdach
gu grinn mu’n cuairt, air chor agus gun
deanadh coisridh bheag cuideachd comh-
nuidh ann. Rinneadh so.

Chuir Colum Cruitire a’ bhean-ghlun
air falbh leis an leanabh gu ruig am
bothan beag am measg nam beann mora,
fiadhaiche, fasaiche, fada o laimh, far
nach faiceadh suil sealladh agus far nach
cluinneadh cluas guth air Deirdire; oir
b’ esinainman leinibh. Chuir e h-uile
dad doigheil air an cinn, agus chuir e
lon agus earradh la agus bliadhna leo ;
agus thuirt e ris a’ bhean-ghlun gu’n
reachadh lon agus aodach thuca a rithist
an ceann na bliadhna, agus mar sin o
bhliadhna gu bliadhna am fad a bhith-

eadh esan beo. Isannmarsoathachair.

DEIRDIRE 23

and he led them to a great hidden
mountain far away, without knowledge,
without hint, without warning to any
person. He there betook him to dig
out from the inside of a green conical
mound, and to line the hollow thus
formed right round, so as to enable a
small party to dwell therein comfort-
ably. This was done.

Colum Cruitire then sent the knee-
woman away with the infant to this
small low sheiling among the great hills
in the wild distant desert, where no eye
could see and where no ear could hear
talk of Deirdire, for that was the name
of the child. He put everything in
order before them, and he sent food and
raiment with them to last them for a
year and a day, and he told the knee-
woman that food and clothing would be
sent to them again at the end of the
year, and that way from year to year as
long as he was alive, And this was so.

24 DEIRDIRE

II

Bha Deirdire agus a muime altruim a’
tamh anns a’ bhothan am measg nam
beann, gun fios, gun fath aig duine beo
mu ’n deighinn no mu dheighinn sian a
thachair, gus an robh Deirdire ceithir-
bliadhna-diag a dh’ aois. Bha Deir-
dire a’ fas mar am fiuran fionn, agus
i direach, deas, mar an luachran moin-
tich. Bha i os cionn coimeas sluagh
an t-saoghail, dealbhach na_pearsa,
sgiamhach na maise, agus a lith agus
a luith mar eala nan tonn agus mar eilid
nam beann. Is i boinne-fala bu chaoine
cruth, a b’ aillidhe snuadh agus a bu
shuairce mein eadar tur agus adhar an
Eirinn; agus ge b’ e air bith dath no
dreach a bhiodh oirre roimhe sin, cha
robh suil a shealladh na h-aodann nach
rachadh ise na caoire dearga fala r’ a
linn.

DEIRDIRE 25

II

Deirdire and her nurse-mother were
dwelling in the low little bothy among
the great high hills, without the know-
ledge, without the suspicion of any liv-
ing one about them, or about anything
that happened, till Deirdire was four-
teen years of age. Deirdire was grow-
ing as lithe and fair as the stately
sapling, and as straight and symmet-
rical as the young moorland rush. She
was above comparison of the people of
the world, shapely in her person, lovely
in her beauty, while her skin and her
gait were like those of the swan of the
lake and of the hind of the hill. She
was the blood-drop of finest form, of love-
liest complexion, and of gentlest mien
between earth and sky in Eirin. And
whatever other colour or complexion
she should have on before, no eye looked
in her face but she instantly went into
blushes like glowing fire on the occasion.

26 DEIRDIRE

Bha am boirionnach a bha ’n a bun a’
toirt a h-uile fiosrachaidh agus eolais do
Dheirdire air an robh fios agus eolas
aice fein. Cha robh fiar a fas a
friamh, no ian a seinn a coill, no reul
a’ soillse a néamh air nach robh ainm
aig Deirdire. Ach aon rud, cha robh am
boirionnach air son gu’m bitheadh cuid
no comhradh aig Deirdire ri neach beo
do shluagh coitcheann an t-saoghail.

Ach oidhche dhudarra gheamhraidh
agus na neoil dhubha fo ghruaim,
agus sealgair sithne siubhail a bha
sgith ri siubhal bheann, dé ach a
thainig seachran-seilg air an duine, agus
chaill e a chursa agus a chompanaich.
Thuit tromaltan cadail air an duine,
agus e sgith a’ siubhal sliabh, agus
laigh e sios ri taobh an tolmain bhoidh-
ich ghuirm an robh Deirdire a’ tamh
agus chaidil e. Bha an duine fann le
acras agus allaban, agus ga lathadh le

DEIRDIRE 27

The nurse-mother was teaching Deir-
dire all the intelligence and knowledge
of which she herself had intelligence
and knowledge. There was no plant |
springing from root, nor bird singing
from grove, nor star gleaming from
heaven, for which Deirdire had not a
name. But one thing, the woman did
not wish that Deirdire should have
communion or converse with any living
one of the general people of the earth.

But on a wild, wintry night and the
dark clouds surly, a hunter of wander-
ing game was tired with travelling
hills, and what but hunt-wandering
came on the man, and he lost his course
and his companions. Sleep-drowsiness
fell on the man from wandering the
hills, and he laid himself down beside
the beautiful green knoll in which Deir-
dire dwelt, and he fell asleep. The man
was weak from hunger and fatigue, and
benumbed with cold, and deep sleep

28 DEIRDIRE

fuachd, agus thainig suain chadail air.
An uair a laigh e sios ri taobh a’
ghrianain ghuirm an robh Deirdire
tamh, thainig bruaillean air an duine
agus bha duil aige gun robh e ann
am blaths brugh nan sithichean agus
na sithichean a stigh ri ceol. Dh’ eubh
an sealgair n a bhruaillean ma bha
duine anns a’ bhrugh iad ga leigeadh a
stigh air sgath Ni-maith.

Chuala Deirdire an guth agus thuirt i
r amuime, ‘A mhuime, ciod e tha sud ?’
‘Cha’n ’eil ach rud gun dit—eoin na
h-ealtainn air seachran agusiad a’sireadh
a cheile; ach siubhladh iad seachad gu
doire nan geug.’ Thainig an sin bruail-
lean eile air an t-sealgair agus dh’ eubh
e arithist ma bha duine steach anns a’
bhrugh, air sgath Ti-nan-dtl iad ga
leigeadh a stigh. ‘’De tha sud?’ orsa
Deirdire. ‘Chan ’eil ach rud gun
doigh,’ ors’ a muime—‘eoin na coille
air chall air a cheile; ach siubhladh iad »

DEIRDIRE 29

came on him. When he lay down be-
side the green bower in which Deirdire
abode, sleep-wandering came upon the
man, and he thought that he was.
in the warmth of the mound of the
fairies, and the fairies making music
within. The hunter called in his
dreams, if there was any one in the
mound that they would let him in for
the sake of the Good Being.

Deirdire heard the voice, and she said
to her nurse-mother, ‘ Nurse-mother,
what is that?’ ‘Only a thing of little
worth, the birds of the air astray,
and seeking one another; but let them
hie them away past to the forest of
branches.’ Another sleep - wandering
came upon the hunter, and he called
again, if there was any one in the knoll
for the sake of the Being of the Ele-
ments to let him in. ‘ What is that?’
said Deirdire. ‘Only a thing without
sense, said her nurse ; ‘the birds of the

30 DEIRDIRE

seachad gu doire nan geug.’ Thainig
an sin bruaillean eile air an t-sealgair,
agus dh’ eubh e mach an treasa turas
ma bha duine anns a’ bhrugh, air sgath
Dia-nan-dtl a leigeadh a stigh, gu’n
robh e ’g a lathadh le fuachd agus ’g a
chlaoidh le acras. ‘O, ciod e tha sud,
a mhuime?’ orsa Deirdire. ‘Cha ruig
thusa leas duil a bhith agad gu bheil
dad an sud gu toileachadh a thoirt
duit, a bhuinneag; am bheil an sud
ach eoin na h-ealtainn agus iad air
call a cheile; ach siubhladh iad seach-
ad gu doire nan geug. Chan ’eil
fasgath no fardach an so daibh a
nochd.’ ‘O, mhuime, dh’ iarr an t-ian
a stigh air sgath Dia-nan-dtl, agus
their thu fhein riumsa ni air bith a
dh’ iarrar oirnn ’n a ainm-san gur coir
dhuinn a dheanadh. Muir leig thu
leam an t-ian a tha ’g a lathadh le
fuachd agus ’g a chlaoidh le acras a
leigeil a stigh cha mhor is dit leam

DEIRDIRE 31

woods astray from each other, and seek-
ing one another ; but let them hie them
away past to the forest of branches.’
Thenanother sleep-wandering cameupon
the hunter, and he called out the third
time, if there was any one in the knoll
for the sake of the God of the Elements
to let him in, for he was benumbed with
cold and sore with hunger. ‘Oh! what
is that, nurse-mother ?’ said Deirdire.
‘Thou needst not think there is aught
there to give thee gladness, maiden,’
said the nurse-mother, ‘there is there
but the birds of the air and they having
lost one another; but let them hie them
away past to the forest of branches.
There is neither shelter nor home for
them here this night.’ ‘Oh! nurse-
mother, the bird asked in the name of
the God of the Elements, and thou thy-
self sayest to me that whatever is asked
of us in His name that it should be
done. If thou wilt not allow me to let

32 DEIRDIRE

fhein do chainnt no do chreideamh.
Ach o ’n a tha mise toirt ceill do d’
chainnt agus do d’ chreideamh a dh’
ionnsaich thu domh, leigidh mi fhein
a stigh an t-ian.’

Agus dh’ eirich Deirdire agus thug i
an cleite bhar comhla an doruis, agus
leig 1 stigh an sealgair. Chuir i suidh-
eachan an aite suidhe, biadh an aite
ithidh, agus deoch an ait’ oil, dha ’n
duine thainig dhachaidh.

‘Siuthad agus ith biadh agus tu
riatanach air,’ orsa Deirdire. ‘An ta,
bha mise sin, riatanach air _biadh,
agus air deoch agus air blaths, an
trath thainig mi dachaidh dha ’n
tulaich so; ach nar a meal mi mo
shlainte mur d’ fhalbh iad diom co
loma luath agus a chunna mi thu.’
‘O bhith ’s aodaich, a dhuine thainig
dhachaidh nach ann air do theang’ tha
an ruiteis!’ ors’ a chailleach, ‘ Cha

DEIRDIRE 33

in the bird benumbed with cold and
sore with hunger, I myself will doubt
thy speech and thy faith. But, as I
believe in thy speech and in thy faith .
that thou didst teach me, I myself will
let in the bird.’

And Deirdire arose, took the bar off
the leaf of the door, and she let in the
hunter. She placed a seat in a place of
sitting, food in a place of eating, and
drink in a place of drinking, for the
man who came home.

‘Go on and eat food, and thou
needful of it,’ said Deirdire. ‘ Well,
I was that, needful of food, and of
drink and of warmth, when I came
home to this knoll,’ said the hunter;
‘but’ may I never enjoy my health if
these are not gone from me as soon as
ever I beheld thee, maiden.’ ‘Oh, food
and clothing! thou man who camest
home, is it not upon thy tongue the
running is?’ said the woman, ‘ It is not

Cc

34 DEIRDIRE

mhor an ni dhuit do bhial a chumail
duinte, agus do theang a chumail balbh
ri linn duit tighinn dachaidh agus fas-
gath na fardaich fhaighinn air oidhche
dhudarra gheamhraidh.’ ‘ An ta,’ ors’
an sealgair, ‘faodaidh mise sin a dhean-
amh, mo bhial a chumail duinte agus
mo theang a chumail balbh ri linn
domh tighinn dachaidh agus aoidheachd
fhaighinn uait; ach air laimh d’ athar
agus do sheanar, agus air do dha laimh
fhein ’g an saoradh sin, na ’m faiceadh
cuid eile de shluagh an t-saoghail am
boinne-fala ta agad gu falachaidh an so
cha b’ fhada sin fhein, a Righ nan dil’s
nan domhan, a dh’ fhagadh iad agadsa i.’
‘’De na daoine tha sin, no co iad?’
orsa Deirdire. ‘An ta, innsidh mise
sin duits’, a nighean,’ ors’ an sealgair,
‘tha Naoise mac Uisne, agus Aillean
agus Ardan, a dha bhrathair.’ ‘Agus
‘de e coltas nam feadhnach sin ri linn
am faicinn, nam faiceamaid iad?’ .

DEIRDIRE 35

a great thing for thee to keep thy mouth
shut and thy tongue dumb on coming
home here and obtaining the shelter of
the dwelling on a cold wintry night.’
‘Well,’ said the hunter, ‘I may do that,
keep my mouth closed and keep my
tongue dumb, on my coming home and
receiving hospitality from thee; but, by
thy father’s hand, and thy grandfather’s,
and by thine own two hands to free
these, were some others of the world’s
people to see this blood-drop whom
thou hast in hiding here, it is not long,
O King of the elements and of the
world, that they would leave her with
thee.’ ‘What people are these or who
are they?’ said Deirdire. ‘Well, I
will tell thee that, maiden,’ said the
hunter. ‘They are Naoise, the son of
Uisne, and Aillean and Ardan, his two
brothers.’ ‘And what is the likeness
of these on being seen, should we see
them?’ said Deirdire. ‘ Well, those

36 DEIRDIRE

orsa Deirdire. ‘An ta, sud agad an
ainm agus an sloinneadh, na chunna
agus na chuala mise orra,’ ors’ an sealg-
air, ‘agus is e dreach agus dealbh
nan daoine ri linn am faicinn, lith an
fhithich air an gruag, an cneas mar
eala nan tonn, an leac mar fhuil an
laocigh bhric dheirg, agus an luth agus
an leum mar bhradan a’ bhuinne-bhrais
agus mar fhiadh a bhearraidh bhriec,
agus tha na bheil os cionn cromadh
an da shlinnein a bharrachd aig Naois
air sluagh eile na h-Kirinn.’

‘’De air bith mar tha iad,’ ors’ a’
bhanaltruim, ‘bi thusa a’ falbh as a
so, agus a’ gabhail rathaid eile, agus a
Righ na gile ’s na greine, gu dearbh
agus gu deimhinn is beag mo chomain
no mo chiatadh fhein dhiot fhein no
dhe ’n te thug a stigh thu.’

‘Dh’ fhalbh an sealgair. Beagan an
deigh da falbh smaointich an duine
aige fhein gun robh Conachar, righ

DEIRDIRE 37

for you are their names and descent,
all that I saw and heard of them,’ said
the hunter; ‘and the appearance and
form of the men on being seen is—the
colour of the raven on their hair, their
skin like the swan of the waves, and
their cheeks like the blood of the
speckled-red fawn, while their strength
and their spring are those of the
salmon of the rapid stream and the
stag of the brindled hill; and Naoise
has all above the slope of the two
shoulders over the other people of Eirin.’

‘However they are,’ said the foster-
mother, ‘be thou going out of here, and
taking another road, and O King
of the moon, and of the sun, truly and
verily small are my own obligations or
delight for thyself or for her who let
thee in.’

The hunter went his way. Shortly
after he left, the man thought to him-
self that Conachar, the king of Ulster,

38 DEIRDIRE

Ulla, a’ laighe agus ag eirigh leis fhein,
gun chagar comhraidh, gun cheile conalt-
raidh; agus na ’m faiceadh e am
boinne-fala bha so gur docha gu’n
tugadh e dachaidh i d’ a ionnsaidh
fhein, agus gu’n deanadh e gean-math
ris-san fhein ri linn innseadh da gu’n
robh a leithid do righinn air bith-
braonach an t-saoghail.

Falbhar an sealgair, lom agus direach
gu pailios Righ Conachar. Chuir e fios
a stigh thun an righ gu’m bu toigh leis
a bhith a’ seanchas ris, na ’m b’ e chead
e. Fhreagair an righ an _ teachdair-
eachd agus thainig e a mach a sheanchas
risan duine. ‘Gu de e fath do thuruis
riums ?’ ors’ an righ ris an t-sealgair.
‘Is e fath mo thuruis fhein ruibh, a
Righ,’ ors’ an sealgair, ‘gu’m faca mi
an aona bhoinne-fala is aillidhe a rugadh
riamh an Hirinn, agus thainig mi ga
innseadh duibh.’ ‘Co iam boinne-fala
tha sin, noc’ ait am bheil 1 r’ a fhaicinn,

DEIRDIRE 39

was lying down and rising up alone
without a confidential love, without a
conversational mate beside him, and
that were he to see this blood-drop
that was here, he might possibly bring ~
her home to himself, and perhaps do a
good deed to him himself for telling
him that there was such a damsel on
the surface of the living dewy world.
The hunter went straight and direct
to the palace of King Conachar. He sent
a message in to the king that he would
like to be talking to him were it his
pleasure. The king answered the mes-
sage and came out to speak to the man.
‘What is the purport of thy errand
with me?’ said the king to the hunter.
‘The cause of my own business with
you, King,’ said the hunter, ‘is that I
have seen the loveliest biood-drop that
ever was born in Ejirin, and I have
come to tell you.’ ‘ Who is she, that
blood-drop, and where is she to be seen,

40 DEIRDIRE

an uair nach facas riamh roimhe i gus
am fac thusa i, ma chunnaic thu i?’
‘An ta, chunnaic mise i,’ ors’ an seal-
gair, ‘ach ma chunnaic cha’n fhaic fear
elle i gum faigh e seoladh air an aite
am bheilia’ tamh.’ ‘Agus an seol thu
domhsa far am bheil i a’ tamh, agus bidh
duais do sheolaidh cho math ri duais do
theachdaireachd?’ ors’ an righ. ‘An
ta, seolaidh, a Righ, ga docha nach
bithear air a shon,’ ors’ an sealgair.
‘Fuirichidh tu anns an teaghlaich so
fhein an nochd,’ orsa Conachar, ‘ agus
falbhaidh mise agus mo dhaoine leat
moch maduinn am maireach.’ ‘ Fuir-
ichidh,’ ors’ an sealgair. Fuirichear an
sealgair an oidhche sin an teaghlach
Righ Conachair.

Chuir Conachar, righ Ulla, fios air
na daoine bu dilse da mar bha triuir
mhac Fhearchair ’ic Ro, clann bhrathar-
athar fhein, agus leig e a run rit. Ge

DEIRDIRE 41

when she had not been seen ever before
till thou didst see her, if seen her thou
hast?’ said the king. ‘Well, I have
seen her,’ said the hunter; ‘but if I~
have, no one else can see her till he
gets guidance to the place where she
dwells.’ ‘And wilt thou guide me to
the place where she dwells, and the
reward for thy guidance will be as good
as the reward for thy messaging, said
the king. ‘Well, I will, O Kung,’
said the hunter, ‘though probably my
doing so may not be wished.’ ‘Thou
shalt remain in this household itself
to-night, and I and my men will go
with thee at early morning to-morrow,’
said Conachar. ‘I will stay,’ said the
hunter. The hunter remained that night
in the household of King Conachar.
Conachar, the king of Ulster, sent
word to the men who were nearest of
kin to himself, such as the three sons
of Fearachar, the son of Ro, the children

42 DEIRDIRE

bu mbhin mochaireach ceileireachd ian
nan cds agus ceol ian nan doire, bu
mhoiche na sin moch-eirigh Chonachair,
righ Ulla, le a chomhlan chaomh
chairdean an caoin chamhanaich a
Cheitein chiuin, tir, agus bruchd dhe ’n
dealt air bharraibh gach dos, is lus agus
freumh, a falbh a thoirt a mach a
ghrianain ghuirm an robh Deirdire
tamh. Bha iomadh og ghaisgeach aig
an robh ceum ltthmhor, leumnaidh,
luaineach aig am falbh, aig an robh
ceum fann, failneach, fiaraidh a’ ruighinn,
aig faidead an astair agus gairbhead
na slighe.

‘Sud ea nis shios air urlar a’ ghlinne,
am brugh am bheil am boirionnach a’
tamh; ach cha teid mise na ’s faisge
na so air a’ chaillich,’ ors’ an sealgair.
Chaidh Conachar le choisir chairdean a
sios thun an tolmain an robh Deirdire

DEIRDIRE 43

of his own father’s brother, and he told
them his secret intent. Though soft
and early was the carolling of the birds
of the bush, and the song of the birds -
of the grove, yet earlier still was the
early rising of Conachar, the king of
Ulster, and his band of trusted friends
in the mild morning dawn of the gentle,
fresh May, with an outpouring of dew
on the points of sapling, bush, and plant,
going in search of the green sunny sheil-
ing in which Deirdire dwelt. There was
many a gay gallant of lithe, lively,
lightsome step at leaving, who was of
weak, wounded, waddled step on reach-
ing there, from the greatness of the
distance and the roughness of the way.

‘There it is now, down on the floor
of the glen, the sheiling in which the
woman abides, but I will go no nearer
than this to the carlin,’ said the hunter.
Conachar and his band of trusted
friends went down to the knoll wherein

44 DEIRDIRE

tamh, agus ghnog e ann an dorus a’
bhoth. Thuirt a’ bhanaltruim nach
tugteadh freagar no fosgladh do neach
air bith, agus nach robh i air son neach
air bith a chur dragh oirre fein no
air a bothan. ‘ Fosgail thus’,’ orsa
Conachar, ‘agus gheibh thu talla is
fearr na so ri linn duinn a dhol dach-
aidh.’ ‘Cha’n ’eil mise,’ ors’ a’ bhean
bhochd, ‘ a’ sireadh talla no tuam is fearr
na mo bhothan fein na’m fagt’ ann mi,
agus cead mo laighe’s m’ eirigh fhagail
agam fhein. Cha lugha na facal righ
agus feachd rioghachd a chuireas mis as
mo bhothan fhein an nochd.’ ‘ Fosgail
thus’, agus mur fosgail thu dha do
dheoin fosglaidh tu dha d’ aindheoin,’
ors’ an righ, agus e fas feargach. ‘An
ta bhithinn na ’r comain,’ ors’ am
boirionnach, ‘na ’n tugadh sibh brath
dhomh co tha sireadh orm dorus mo
bhothain fhosgladh.’ ‘Tha mise, Con-
achar, righ Ulla, agus na biodh a’

DEIRDIRE 45

Deirdire dwelt, and they knocked at
the door of the hut. The foster-mother
said that no answer or opening would
be given to any one, and that she was not —
for any person to be molesting herself
or her home. ‘Open thou,’ said Con-
achar, ‘and thou shalt get a better hall
than this when we get home.’ ‘I am
not wanting a better hall or house than
my own little bothy were I left in it,’ said
the poor woman, ‘and permission for my
lying down and my rising up left to
myself. It is not less than the word
of a king and the army of a kingdom
that shall drive me from my own little
hut this night.’ ‘Open thou, and if
thou wilt not open it with thy will
thou shalt open it against thy will,’
said the king, and he growing angry.
‘Indeed I would be obliged to you,’
said the woman, ‘were you to tell me
who is asking me to open my bothy
door?’ ‘It is I, Conachar, the king

46 DEIRDIRE

chuis an dalla-chrannachd ort na ’s
fhaide.’ An uair a chuala a’ bhean
bhochd co bha’s an dorus, dh’ eirich i le
cabhaig, agus leig i stigh an righ agus
na thoilleadh a stigh d’ a choisir.

An uair a chunnaic an righ am
boirionnach a bha air a chionn, agus air
an robh e an toir, bha leis nach fac e
riamh ann an curs an la no ann an
aisling na h-oidhche boinne-fala cho
aillidh ri Deirdire, agus thug e cudrom
a chridhe de ghaol di. Cha robh ma-
near d’a fhein agus d’a dhaoine, bho
thoiseach gu crich na cuise, ach Deir-
dire a spionadh leo air fras-mhullach an
guailne, bitheadh nar-a bitheadh i
deonach Is e so a rinneadh, thogadh
Deirdire air fras-mhullach ghuala nan
laoch, agus thugadh i fhein, agus a
muim-altruim air falbh gu pailios Righ
Conachar, Ulla.

DEIRDIRE AT

of Ulster, and let not the matter be in
darkness to thee longer.’ When the
poor woman heard who was at the door
she arose with haste and she let in the
king and all who could hold within of
his band.

When the king saw the damsel who
was before him, and of whom he was in
search, he thought to himself that never
in the course of the day nor in a dream
of the night saw he a blood-drop so
lovely as Deirdire ; and he gave her the
weight of his heart of love. There was
nothing in his own mind, or in the
minds of his men, from the beginning to
the end of the matter, but to snatch
Deirdire away on the summit of their
shoulders be she or be she not willing.
This was what was done, and Deirdire
was raised on the summit of the shoulders
of the heroes, and she herself and her
foster-mother were taken away to the
palace of King Conachar of Ulster.

48 DEIRDIRE

Leis an deigh a bha aig Conachar air
Deirdire bha e deonach a posadh air lar-
ach nam bonn, bitheadh nar-a bitheadh
ise deonach es’ a phosadh. An uaira
chuireadh a’ chuis na cead-se, cha
deanadh 1 idir, idir e, a muigh no mach,
agus nach fac i cruitheachd creutair
riamh thuige so. Cha robh fios aice
air deanadas mna no air gnathachadh
maighdinn, agus nach do shuidh i riamh
ann an cuideachd no an comhlan thuige
so. Cha b’ urra dhi urrad agus suidhe
air séur le cion nach fac i daoine riamh
thuige so. Leis mar bha Conachar a’
sparadh posaidh air Deirdire thuirt i
ris na ’n leigeadh e leatha dail la agus
bliadhna gu’m bitheadh i ’n a chomain.
Thuirt e rithe gu’n tugadh e sud di ge
bu chruaidh e, na’n tugadh ise gealladh
cinnteach dasan gu’m posadh i e air
ceann na bliadhna. Thug i so.

Fhuair an righ bean-ionnsachaidh do

DEIRDIRE 49

With the fondness that Conachar had
for Deirdire he wished to marry her
immediately (lit. on the track of their
soles) whether or not she was willing
to marry him. When the matter was —
placed before her she would not do it at’
all, at all, and that she never saw the
features of living man till now. She
had no knowledge of the duties of wife,
nor of the manners of maiden, and that
she had never sat in gathering or in
company before. She could not so
much as sit on a chair, because she
never saw people till now. From the
way that Conachar was thrusting mar-
riage upon Deirdire she said, if he
would give her a delay of a year and a
day she would be obliged to him. He
said he would give her that, though it
would be hard, if she would give him a
sure promise that she would marry him
at the end of the year. She gave this.

The king got a teaching woman for

D

50 DEIRDIRE

Dheirdire, agus maighdeannan cridheil,
erinn, modhail, min, méinneach a bhith-
eadh a’ laighe agus ag eirigh, a’ cluich
agus a’ comhradh leatha.

Bha Deirdire deanadach ann an
gniomh maighdinn agus ann an tuigse
mna; agus bha le Conachar nach fac e
fhein le shuilean corpora riamh boinne-
fala cho taitneach rithe.

III

De ach a bha Deirdire agus na
mnathan-coimheadaidh 1&4 muigh air a’
chnoc cul an tighe, a’ gabhail seallaidh
agus ag ol na greine. Co chunnaic iad
a tighinn ach gu’m be triuir fear air
astar. Bha Deirdire dearcadh air na
daoine bha tighinn agus i gabhail
ioghnaidh diu. An uair a dhluthaich
na daoine riu chuimhnich Deirdire air
cainnt an t-sealgair, agus thuirt i rithe
fhein gu’m bad so triuir mhac Uisne

DEIRDIRE 51

Deirdire, and merry, elegant, mannerly,
gentle, modest maidens who would be
lying down and rising up, and playing
and conversing with her.

Deirdire was eident in maidenly
acquirements and in womanly know-
ledge, and Conachar bethought him that
he never himself with his bodily eyes
saw a blood-drop so pleasing as she.

Iil

What but Deirdire and her attendant
women were one day out on the hill
behind the house viewing the scene and
drinking the sun. Whom should they
see coming their way but three men on
a journey. Deirdire was gazing at the
men who were coming, and wondering
at them. When the men neared them
Deirdire remembered the words of the
hunter, and she said to herself that
these were the three sons of Uisne, and

52 DEIRDIRE

agus gu’m b’ e so Naois, agus na bha os
cionn cromadh an da shlinnein aige os
cionn fir Eireann uile.

Ghabh an trivir bhraithrean seachad
gun suim a ghabhail diu, gun suil a
thoirt os an cionn air na h-ainnirean air
a’ chnoc. De ach gu’n do thalantaich
gradh Naois ann an cridhe Deirdire
gus nach b’ urr’ i fuireach gun falbh as
a dheigh. Trusar i a trusgan agus
falbhar air deaghaidh nam fear a ghabh
seachad bonn a’ chnoic, agus fagar na
mnai-coimheadachd a’ sud, biodh iad
buidheach no diumbach.

Chual Aillean agus Ardan mu dhei-
ghinn a’ bhoirionnaich a bha aig Cona-
char, righ Ulla, agus smaoinich iad
na ’m faiceadh Naois, am brathair, 1
gur ann a bhitheadh i aige fhein, seachd
araidh o nach robh i posd aig an righ.
Mhothaich iad dha ’n bhoirionnaich a’
tighinn agus db’ iarr iad air cach-a-cheile
ceum a chumail ann, an t-astar mor aca

DEIRDIRE 53

that this was Naoise, and that he had
all that was above the slope of the two
shoulders over all the men of Eirin.

The three brothers passed them by
without heeding them, without looking
above them at the maidens on the hill.
What but that the love of Naoise
became so implanted in the heart of
Deirdire that she could not resist with-
out going after him. She gathered up
her garments, and she went after
the men who had passed by at the
base of the hill, and left the attendant
women there, be they pleased or annoyed.

Aillean and Ardan heard of the
damsel whom Conachar, king of Ulster,
had, and they thought if Naoise, their
brother, were to see her he would have
her himself, very especially as she was
not married to the king. They noticed
the damsel coming, and they exhorted
one another to walk well, because of the
long distance they had to do, and the

54 DEIRDIRE

r'a dheanamh, agus ciaradh na h-oidhche
a’ tighinn. Rinn iad so. Ghlaodh ise,
‘A Naoise, mhic Uisne, an ann a’ brath
m’ fhagail a tha thu?’ ‘Gu de an
glaodh sud a chuala mo chluas nach
eil soirbh domh a fhreagairt, agus nach
‘eil furasda dhomh a dhiultadh ?’ orsa
Naois. ‘Cha’n ’eil ach lachraich nan
lacha-luin aig Conachar,’ ors’ a bhraith-
rean. ‘Ach luathaicheamaid ar cas
agus graideamaid ar ceum, agus an
t-astar mor againn r’a dheanamh, agus
ciaradh an fheasgair a’ tuiteam.’ Rinn
iad so, agus bha iad a’ sineadh an astair
eadar iad fhein agus ise. Ghlaodh an
sin Deirdire, ‘A Naois! a Naoise, mhic
Uisne, an ann a’ brath m’ fhagail a tha
thu?’ ‘De an glaodh a tha na m’chluais
agus a bhuail mo chridhe, nach ’eil
soirbh dhomh a fhreagairt agus nach
eil furasda dhomh a dhiultadh?’ ‘ Cha’n
eil ach glaodh nan geadh glas aig
Conachar,’ ors’ a bhraithrean. ‘ Ach

DEIRDIRE 55

darkness of night coming on. They did
this. She called, ‘ Naoise, thou son of
Uisne, is it intending to leave me thou
art?’ ‘What is that cry mine ear heard .
that is not easy for me to answer, and
that is not easy for me to refuse?’ said
Naoise. ‘It is but the quacking of
the lake-ducks of Conachar, said his
brothers. ‘ But let us hasten our feet
and hurry our steps, and the long dis-
tance we have to do, and the darkness
of night falling.’ They did this, and
they were stretching the distance be-
tween themselves and her. Then Deir-
dire called again, ‘Naoise! Naoise!
thou son of Uisne, is it intending to
leave me thou art?’ ‘ What cry is in
my ear and that struck my heart, that
is not easy for me to answer, nor easy
for me to refuse.’ ‘There is but the
ery of the grey geese of Conachar,’
said his brothers. ‘But let us walk
well, for we have the walking to do

56 DEIRDIRE

cumamaid ceum ann agus a choiseachd
againn r’a dheanamh agus dubhradh na
h-oidhche tighinn.’ Rinn iad so, agus
bha iad a’ sineadh an astair eadar iad
fhein agus ise. Ghlaodh a’ sin Deirdire,
an treasa turas, ‘A Naois! a Naois! a
Naoise, mhic Uisne, an ann a’ brath m’
fhagail a tha thu?’ ‘Gu de an glaodh
gointe cruaidh is binne chuala mo chluas
agus is cruaidhe bhuail mo chridhe dhe
na h-uile glaodh a rainig mi riamh ?’
orsa Naois. ‘Am bheil ann ach guileag
nan eala-luin aig Conachar,’ ors’ a
bhraithrean. ‘Tha treasa glaodh na
h-eigin an sud,’ orsa Naois, ‘agus boid
laoich orm fhein ma’s urrainn domh dol
seach a so gus am faic mi co uaith a
thainig an glaodh’; agus thill Naois.
Chomhlaich Naois agus Deirdire ri
cheile, agus thug Deirdire na tri tiura
pog do Naois, agus pog an aon dia
bhraithre. Leis an naisneachd a bha
air Deirdire bha i dol na caoire dearga

DEIRDIRE 57

and the blackness of night coming on.’
They did this, and they were stretching
thedistance between themselves and her.
Then Deirdire called the third time,
‘Naoise! Naoise! Naoise, thou son of
Uisne, is it intending to leave me thou
art?’ ‘What is the wounded, hard
cry, the sweetest my ear ever heard,
and the hardest that ever struck my
heart, of all the cries that ever reached
me?’ said Naoise. ‘It is but the wail
of the lake-swans of Conachar,’ said
his brothers. ‘There is the third cry
of distress there,’ said Naoise, ‘and with
the vow of a hero upon me I can go no
further than this till I see whence comes
the cry,’ and Naoise went back.

Naoise and Deirdire met each other,
and Deirdire gave the three kisses to
Naoise, and a kiss each to his brothers.
From the shame that was upon Deir-
dire, she was going into red blushes of

58 DEIRDIRE

teine, agus a’ caochladh rugha-gruaidhe
cho luath ri crithionn nan allt. Bha le
Naois nach fac e fhein anns a’ choluinn
shaoghalta riamh boinne-fala coltach ris
a’ bhoinne-fala bha so; agus thug Naois
gradh do Dheirdire nach d’ thug e do
ni, no do nial, no do neach riamh ach
dhi fhein.

Chuir Naois Deirdire air fras-mhullach
a ghuaille, agus dh’iarr e air a bhraith-
rean ceum a chumail ann; agus chum a
bhraithrean ceum ann.

Smaointich Naois nach robh math
dha fuireach an Eirinn leis mar a chuir
e Conachar, righ Ulla, mac bhrathar-
athar fhein, na aghaidh a thaobh a’
bhoirionnaich, ge nach robh i posd aige,
agus tillear e air ais a dh’ Alba. Rainig
e taobh Loch-Naois agus rinn e tigheadas
ann. Mharbhadh e bradan a bhoinne
bhrais a mach air an dorus, agus fiadh
a’ bhearraidh bhric a mach air an
uinneig. Bha Naois agus Deirdire agus

DEIRDIRE 59

fire, and changing the ruddiness of her
cheeks as fast as moves the aspen of the
streams. Naoise thought to himself that
he himself had never seen in bodily forma .
blood-drop like the blood-drop that was
here; and Naoise gave love to Deirdire
that he never gave to thing, nor to vision,
nor to person, but to herself alone.

Naoise placed Deirdire on the very
summit of his shoulders, and he re-
quested his brothers to walk well now,
and his brothers walked well.

Naoise thought that he must not re-
main in Kirin, as he had put Conachar,
king of Ulster, his own father’s brother's
son, against him, on account of the
damsel, though she was not married to
him, and he returned back to Albain.
He reached the side of Loch Naois, and
he made a home there. He could kill
the salmon of the rapid stream out at
the door, and the deer of the many-
coloured hill out at the window. Naoise

60 DEIRDIRE

Aillean agus Ardan a’ tamh ann an tur,
agus bha iad gu sona ri linn a bhi ann.
Thainig an so ceann an am aig an
robh aig Deirdire ri Conachar, righ
Ulla, a phosadh. Gu de bha Conachar
ach na bheachd fein gu’n tugadh e
mach Deirdire leis a’ chlaidheamh, i bhi
posd aig Naois no gun ibhith. Gu de
an obair a bha aig Conachar ach a’ cur
a suas cuirm mhoir mheadhraich. Chuir
e fios a mach fad agus farsuing feadh
Eirinn uile d’ a dhaimhich tighinn thun
na cuirme. Bha e smaointinn aige
fhein la blair agus baiteil a thoirt do
Naoise, mac Uisne, agus a’ bhean a thoirt
uaith bitheadh nar a bitheadh i posd
aige. Bha OConachar a’ smaointinn aige
fhein nach tigeadh Naois ged a chuir-
eadh e fios air; agus is e an sgém a
chinnich na cheann brath a chur air
brathair athar, Fearchar Mac Ro, agus
a chur air theachdaireachd a dh’ ionn-
saidh Naois. inn e so, agus thuirt

DEIRDIRE 61

and Deirdire, Aillean and Ardan, were
dwelling in a tower, and they were
happy during the time they were there.

Then came the end of the time when .
Deirdire was to marry Conachar, the
king of Ulster. What was Conachar in
his own mind but meditating to win out
Deirdire by the sword, be she married
to Naoise or be she not. What work was
Conachar engaged upon but preparing
a great, merry banquet. He sent a
message out far and: wide through all
Kirin to his kinsmen to come to the
feast. He was thinking to himself to
give a day of combat and of battle
to Naoise, the son of Uisne, and to
take the woman from him be she or
be she not married to him. Conachar
thought to himself that Naoise would
not come should he send a message to
him, and it was the scheme that grew
in his head to send word to his father’s
brother, Fearachar, the son of Ro, and

62 DEIRDIRE

Conachar ri Fearchar, ‘ Abair ri Naois,
mac Uisne, gu bheil mise cur suas cuirm
mhoir, mheadhraich do m’ chairdean
agus do m’ dhaimhich fad fin-foinneach
fiaraidh na h-Eireann uile agus nach bi
fois la, no tamh oidhche agam, ma bhios
esan agus Aillean agus Ardan as iunais
na cuirme.

Falbhar Fearchar Mac Ro agus a
thriuir mac air an turus agus rainigear
an tur an robh Naois a’ tamh ri taobh
Loch-Eite. Chuir Clann Uisne failte
chairdeil, chaoimhneil air Fearchar
Mac Ro agus air a thriuir mac, agus dh’
fheoraich iad diubh sgeula na h-Eireann.
‘An sgeul is fearr a th’ agam duibh,’
ors an curaidh cruaidh, ‘gu _ bheil
Conachar, righ Ulla, a cur suas cuirm
mhoir sholasaich d’ a chairdean agus
d’ a dhaimhich fad fin-foinneach-fiaraidh
Eireann uile agus gu’n d’ thug e boid air
an talamh a ta fodha, agus air an ard
adhar a ta os a chionn, agus air a’ ghrein

DEIRDIRE 63

to send him on an embassy to Naoise.
He did this, and Conachar said to
Fearachar, ‘Say thou to Naoise, the son
of Uisne, that I am preparing a great,
joyous feast for my friends and kinsmen
throughout the whole length of all Hirin,
and that I shall have no day peace nor
night rest and he and Aillean and Ardan
absent from the feast.

Fearachar, the son of Ro, and his three
sons went on their mission, and reached
the tower in which Naoise dwelt by
the side of Loch Etive. The sons of
Uisne put friendly, kindly welcome on
Fearachar, the son of Ro, and on his
three sons, and they asked of them the
news of Eirin. ‘ The best tale I myself
have for you,’ said the hardy hero, ‘is
that Conachar, the king of Ulster, is
preparing a great, joyous banquet for
his friends and kinsmen throughout the
whole length of all Eirin, and that he
has vowed a vow by the earth that is

64 DEIRDIRE

a tha dol seachad siar nach bitheadh fois
latha no tamh oidhche aige mur tigeadh
Clann Uisne, clann bhrathar-athar fhein
air an aisdothirandachaidh agus do thal-
amh an duthchais, agus a dh’ ionnsaidh
na cuirme; aguschuir e sinne air theachd-
aireachd d’ ur n-iarraidh.’ ‘Theid sinn
leat,’ orsa Naois. ‘Theid,’ ors’ a bhraith-
rean. ‘Theid,’ orsa Fearchar Mac Ro,
‘agus bidh mi fein agus mo thriuir mac
leibh.’ ‘ Bidh,’ ors’ am Boinne Borb.
‘Bidh,’ ors’ an Cuilionn Cruaidh. ‘ Bidh,’
ors am Fillan Fionn. ‘Is fearr an
tighearnas fhein an Albainn na an
tigheadas an Eirinn,’ orsa Deirdire. ‘ Is
anns’ an duthchas seach an dualchas,’
ors am Fearchar Mac Ro. ‘Is mi-
aoibhinn do neach air feabhas a chuibh-
rinn agus a chrannchuir mur faic e
dhuthaich fhein agus a dhachaidh fhein
an dm eirigh anns a’ mhaduinn agus an
im laighe anmoch.’ ‘Is mi-aoibhinn, ’orsa
Naois ; ‘is annsa leam fhein an duthchas

DEIRDIRE 65

beneath him, by the high sky that is
above him and by the westward-passing
sun, that he would not have day peace
nor night rest if the Children of Uisne,
his own father’s brother’s sons, did not
return to the land of their home and the
country of their inheritance and to the
banquet, and he has sent us on embas-
sage to ask you.’ ‘We will go with
you, said Naoise. ‘ We will go,’ said his
brothers. ‘You will go,’ said Fearachar,
the son of Ro; ‘I myself and my three
sons will be with you.’ ‘ We willbe,’ said
Boinne Borb. ‘ We will be,’ said Cuilionn
Cruaidh. ‘Wewill be,’said Fiollan Fionn.
‘Better is one’s own lording in Albain
than householding in Eirin, said Deirdire.
‘ Dearer is the hereditary home than the
hereditary country,’ said Fearachar, the
son of Ro. ‘ Unhappy it is for a man,
however good his means and his lot, if
he does not see his own country and his
own home at the time of rising in the
E

66 DEIRDIRE

seach an dualchas, ge mor a gheibhinn
an so seach an sin.’
duibh gun dol leam,’ ors’ am Fearchar.

‘Is neochoireach

‘Is neochoireach, orsa Naois, ‘agus

theid sinn leat.’

Cha bu deoin le Deirdire falbh le
Fearchar Mac Ro agus chuir i h-uile
impidh air Naois gun e dh’ fhalbh leis.
Sheinn i agus thuirt 1:—

I

‘Tha donnal nan con am chluais,
Agus bruadal na h-oidhch, am shuil ;
Chi mi Fearchar an comhlan duais’,
Chi mi Conachar gun truas ’n a mhur,
Chi mi Conachar gun truas ’n a mhur.

II

‘Chi mi Naois gun ursna-chatha,
Chi mi Ailde gun am beum-sgeithe,
Chi mi Ardan gun sgiath, gun chlaidheamh,
’S tulach Atha gun rath, gun eibhneas,
’S tulach Atha gun rath, gun eibhneas.

DEIRDIRE 67

morning and at the time of lying at
night.’ ‘It is unhappy,’ said Naoise ;
‘dearer to myself is the land heredity
than the kin heredity; though much
more I would get here than there.’
‘It is harmless for you to go with me,’
said Fearachar. ‘It is harmless,’ said
Naoise ; ‘ and we will go with you.’

Deirdire was not willing to go with
Fearachar, the son of Ro, and she put
every supplication on Naoise not to go
with him. She sang and said :—

I
‘The howling of the dogs is in mine ear,
The vision of the night is in mine eye;
I see Fearachar in league with a bribe,
I see Conachar without compassion in his
tower,
I see Conachar without compassion in his

tower.
II

‘I see Naoise without supports of battle,
I see Aillean without sounding shield,
I see Ardan without targe, without sword;
I see the house of Atha without luck, without
joy,
I see the house of Atha without luck, without
joy.

68 DEIRDIRE

Iil

‘Chi mi Conachar le iota fala,
Chi mi Fearchar le faileas-breige,
Chi mi ’n triuir bhraithre ’s an cul ri talamh,
’S chi mi Deirdire galach, deurach,
’S chi mi Deirdire galach, deurach.’

‘Cha bu chaomh leam fhein agus cha
do gheill mi riamh do bhural chon no
do bhruadal bhan, a Naois, agus bho ’n
a chuir Conachar, righ Ulla, teachdair-
eachd cuirm agus cairdeis thugaibh
is niarach neochoireach duibh mur a teid
sibh ann, a Naois,’ orsa Fearchar Mac
Ro. ‘Is neochoireach,’ orsa Naois, ‘agus
theid sinn leat.’ ‘Chunnacas_aislig
eile, Naois, agus minich domh i,’ orsa
Deirdire :—

I

‘Chunnas na tri calmana geala,
Leis na tri balgama meala na ’m beuil ;
’S, O! a Naoise mhic. Uisne,
Sorchair thusa dhomh dubhar mo sgeuil.’

Naois

‘ Am bheil ann ach bruaillean pramh,
’S lionn-dubh mna, a Dheirdire.’

DEIRDIRE 69

Itt
*T see Conachar with a thirst for blood,
I see Fearachar with the reflection of guile,
I see the three brothers with their backs to the
earth,
And I see Deirdire sorrowful, tearful,
And I see Deirdire sorrowful, tearful.’

‘I myself never liked and never
yielded to the howlings of dogs nor to
the dreams of women, Naoise, and as
Conachar, the king of Ulster, has sent
invitation of feast and of friendship to
you, it will be unfriendly deed if you do
not come, Naoise,’ said Fearachar, the
son of Ro. ‘It will,’ said Naoise, ‘ and
we will go with you.’ ‘I saw another
vision, Naoise, and explain it to me,

said Deirdire :—
I
‘I saw the three white doves
With the three sips of honey in their
mouths ;
And, oh! Naoise, thou son of Uisne,
Enlighten thou to me the darkness of my
tale.’
Naoise
‘It is but the disturbance of sleep,
And woman’s melancholy, O Deirdire!

70 DEIRDIRE

II

Deirdire

‘Chunnas na tri seabhaga duaire,
Leis na tri braona fala, fuar-fhuil nan
treun ;
’*S, O! a Naoise mhic Uisne,
Sorchair thusa dhomh dubhar mo sgeuil.’

Naois
‘Am bheil ann ach bruaillean pramh,
’S lionn-dubh mna, a Dheirdire.’
I
Dewdire
‘Chunnas na tri fitheacha dubha,
Leis na tri duilleaga dubhach crann-iubhar
an éig,
’S, O! a Naoise mhic Uisne,
Sorchair thusa nis turus mo sgeuil.’
Naois

‘ Am bheil ann ach bruaillean pramh,
’S lionn-dubh mna, a Dheirdire.’

‘An la ’s gu’n do chuir Conachar an
teachdaireachd thugainn tighinn thun
na cuirme is niarach duinn mur teid
sinn ann, a Dheirdire.’ ‘Theid sibh

DEIRDIRE 71

II
Deirdire

‘I saw the three ungenerous hawks
With the three drops of blood, cold blood
of heroes ;
And, oh! Naoise, thou son of Uisne,
Enlighten thou to me the darkness of my
tale.’
Naoise
‘It is only the disturbance of sleep,
And woman’s melancholy, O Deirdire !’

III
Deirdire
‘I saw the three black ravens
With the three sad leaves of the yew tree
of death ;
And, oh! Naoise, thou son of Uisne,
Enlighten thou now the message of my tale.’

Naoise
‘It is only the disturbance of sleep,
And woman’s melancholy, O Deirdire !’

‘As Conachar, the king of Ulster,
has sent us the message to come to the
banquet, it will be unfriendly of us if
we do not go, Deirdire.’

72 DEIRDIRE

ann, orsa Fearchar Mac Ro; ‘agus
ma nochdas Conachar cairdeas ruibh
nochdaidh sibh cairdeas ris, agus ma
dh’ fhiachas e gairge ruibh fiachas sibh
gairge ris, agus bidh mi fhein agus mo
thriuir mac leibh.’ ‘ Bithidh,’ ors’ am
Boinne Borb. ‘ Bithidh,’ ors’ an Cuilionn
Cruaidh. ‘ Bithidh’ ors’ am Fiollan
Fionn. ‘Tha triuir mhac agamsa agus
iad na ’n triuir ghaisgeach, agus beud
no baoghal a dh’ eireas duibh, bi’dh iad
leibh agus bidh mi fhein comhla riu.’—
Agus thug Fearchar Mac Ro boid agus
briathar am fianuis arm, beud no baoghal
a thigeadh an caraibh Chlann Uisne
nach fagadh esan agus a thriuir mhac
ceann air colunn bheo an Eirinn, a dh’
aindeoin claidheamh no clogad, sleagh
no sgiath, lann no luireach mhailleach
d’ am feabhas.

Cha bu dedin le Deirdire falbh as

DEIRDIRE 73

‘You will go,’ said Fearachar, the
son of Ro; ‘and if Conachar shows
friendship to you, you will show friend-
ship to him; and if he tries fierceness
to you, you will try fierceness to
him, and I myself and my three sons
will be with you. ‘We will,’ said
Boinne Borb. ‘We will,’ said Cuilionn
Cruaidh. ‘We will,’ said Fiollan Fionn.
‘I have three sons and they are three
champions, and harm or danger that
shall rise to you they will be with you,
and I myself will be along with them.’
And Fearachar, the son of Ro, gave
his vow and his word in the presence
of his arms, that if any harm or danger
should come near the Children of Uisne
he and his three sons would leave
no head on living body in Eiri, de-
spite sword and helmet, spear and
shield, blade and shirt of mail at their
best.

Deirdire was not willing to leave

74 DEIRDIRE

Alba, ach dh’ fhalbh i le Naois. Bha
Deirdire fras-shileadh nan deur, agus
sheinn i:—
‘Ts ionmhuinn an tir, an tir ud thall,
Albainn choillteach lingeantach !

Is goirt le m’ chridhe bhi ga d’ fhagail,
Ach tha mi falbh le Naois.’

Cha do stad Fearchar Mac Ro gus an
d’ fhuair e Clann Uisne air falbh leis, a
dh’ aindeoin amharus Dheirdire.

‘Cuireadar an curach air sal,
Caireadar rithise breid,

Is ruigeadar an dara-mhaireach,
Traigh bhan na h-Eireann.’

IV
Co luath agus a chaidh Clann Uisne

air tir an Hirinn chuir am Fearchar
Mac Ro fios thun Chonachair, righ
Ulla, gu robh na daoine air an robh e
an toir a nis air tighinn, agus feuch a
nis an nochdadh e cdiread riutha.

DEIRDIRE 75

Alba, but she went with WNaoise.
Deirdire was heavy-showering the tears
and she sang :—
‘Beloved is the land, that yonder land,
Alba full of woods and full of lakes!

Sore to my heart to be leaving thee,
But I go away with Naoise.’

Fearachar, the son of Ro, did not stop
till he got the sons of Uisne away with
him, despite the suspicions of Deirdire.

‘They placed their curach on the brine,
They hoisted to her the sails,

And they reached on the second morrow
The fair strand of Hirin.’

IV
As soon as the Children of Uisne

went on land in Eirin, Fearachar, the
son of Ro, sent information to Con-
achar, the king of Ulster, that the
men, of whom he was in pursuit, were
now come, and to see that he would
now act justly towards them.

76 DEIRDIRE

‘Ma ta, orsa Conachar, ‘cha robh
duil a’m gu’n tigeadh Clann Uisne ged
a chuir mi fios thuca, agus cha’n ’eil mi
buileach deas air an cinn, Ach tha
tigh shios ud anns an robh mi cumail
amhusg, agus rachadh iad a sios ann an
diugh, agus bithidh mo thigh-sa deas air
an cinn am maireach.’ Dh’innis am
Fearchar Mac Ro an teachdaireachd
do Chlann Uisne. ‘An ta,’ orsa Naois,
‘o’n is e sin dite dh’ orduich an Righ
dhuinn theid sinn ann, ach is cinnteach
mi nach ann air son barrachd graidh a
tha Conachar ga ’r caradh am measg
nan ambusg.’

Chaidh iad a sios air an leagadh sin
agus rainig iad astail nanamhusg. Bha
ann a sin coma cearta comhla coig
fichead diag amhusg agus coig amhusg
diag. Cha robh amhusg riamh diubh
sin nach do leig an glag mor gaire ri
linn nan daoine thighinn dachaidh na

DEIRDIRE 77

‘Well,’ said Conachar, ‘I did not
expect that the Children of Uisne would
come, though I sent a message to them,
and I am not quite prepared for them. .
But there is a house down yonder
where I was keeping mercenaries, and
let them go down there to-day, and
my house will be ready before them to-
morrow. Fearachar, the son of Ro, told
the message to the Children of Uisne.
‘Well,’ said Naoise, ‘since that is the
place which the king has ordered for
us, we will go there, but sure am I it
is not for too much love of us that
Conachar is placing us among the
mercenaries.’

They went down on that occasion,
and they reached the quarters of the
mercenaries. There were there huddled
together fifteen twenties of mercen-
aries, and of mercenaries fifteen. There
was not a man among them all who
did not give the big shout of laughter on

78 DEIRDIRE

’m measg. Agus leig Naois an da ghlag
mor gaire bu mhotha na cach gu leir.

An uair a fhuair na h-amhuisg a stigh
iad eireadar iad fear .mu seach agus
cuirear droll am fear air a’ chombla.
Eirear Naois an uair a chunnaic e so
agus cuirear e fhein da dhroll air a
chomhla. ‘Coe an t-aon olach macanta
mor a thainig dachaidh oirnn an so, a
rinn an da ghlag mor gaire agus a
chuir an da dhroll air a’ chomhla?’ orsa
ceannard nan amhusg. ‘Innsidh mise
sin dusa ma dh’ innseas tusa s0
dhomhsa,’ orsa Naois : ‘ Ciod e an t-aon
aobhar mu ’n do rinn a h-uile fear
agaibh fhein glag gaire, agus mu ’n
do chuir sibh droll air a’ chomhla?’
‘Innsidh mi sin duit, olaich; chan
fhaca mi fir bhur dealbh no bhur
dreach a’ tighinn dachaidh dha ’n
fhardaich so riamh, agus cha’n fhaca

DEIRDIRE 79

seeing these men coming home among
them. And Naoise laughed two big
shouts of laughter louder than all the
others together.

When the mercenaries got them
within they rose one by one, and each
placed a bar on the door. Naoise arose
when he saw this, and he himself placed
two bars on the door. ‘ Who is he, the
great stalwart man who has come home
among us here, who has made the two
loud shouts of laughter, and who has
placed the two bars on the door?’ said
the commander of the mercenaries. ‘I
will tell thee that if thou wilt tell me
this, said Naoise. ‘What was the
cause about which each of you made
a loud laugh, and that made each of
you to put a bar on the door?’
‘I will tell thee that, hero. I have
never seen men of your form, and of
your colour, coming home to this dwell-
ing, and I have never seen men, a

80 DEIRDIRE

mi daoine bu docha leam greim d’ am
feoil agus stolum d’ am fuil na ’ur feoil
agus ‘ur fuil fhein,’ orsa ceannard nan
amhusg. ‘Ach innis fhein a nis,
olaich, de an t-aon aobhar mu ’n do
rinn thu da ghlag mor gaire, agus
mu ’n do chairich thu da dhroll air
a’ chomhla,’ orsa ceannard nan amhusg.
‘An ta innsidh mi sin duit; chan
fhaca mi riamh air talamh nam beo,
no ’n comhlan nam marbh, no do
shluagh coitcheann an t-saoghail a b’
fhearr leam na sibh fein an so, am-
huisg, a chur a’ chinn dibh cruinn
cearta comhla.’ Agus dh’ eirich Naois
na sheasamh mor agus rug e air
an amhusg bu mhotha ceann agus bu
chaoile casan, agus shlacanaich e orra
shios agus shuas, thall agus a bhos,
agus m’ an d’ thainig moran uine cha
d’ fhag e amhusg beo. Ghlan iad
an sin an arach daibh fhein agus chuir
iad a suas an gealbhan greadhnach

DEIRDIRE 81

mouthful of whose flesh and a drop of
whose blood I would like so well as
your own flesh and your own blood,’
said the commander of the mercen-
aries. ‘But tell thou now, hero, why
laughed thou the two loud laughs,
and why placed thou the two bars on
the door?’ said the head man of the
mercenaries. ‘ Well, I will tell thee
that,’ said Naoise. ‘I have not seen
in the land of the living, nor in the
company of the dead, nor among the
general people of the world, those
whom I would prefer to yourselves here,
mercenary, to knock off your heads
completely, directly, and together.’
And Naoise rose in his great standing,
and he seized the mercenary of biggest
head and of slenderest shanks, and he
beat upon them up and down, on this
side and on that, and before long he
left not a mercenary alive. Then they
cleaned the house for themselves, and
F

82 DEIRDIRE

griosaich, agus bha iad Sieh ou
leoir ga maduinn.

Ach bha am fear a bha shuas a’ gabh-
ail fadachd nach robh e faighinn fios
a nios cia-mar bha dol daibh shios an
tigh nan amhusg. ‘ Falbh thusa sios,
a mhuime,’ orsa Conachar, ‘agus faic
am bheil a dreach agus a tuar fhein air
Deirdire agus feuch am bheil i mar bha
ian uair a dh’ fhag i mise. Ma tha,
bheir mise mach Deirdire le faobhar lann
agus le rinn claidhimh a dh’ aindeoin
na Feinne d’ am feobhas; ach mur a
bheil, bitheadh iaig Naois mac Uisne dha
fhein.’ Chaidh a’ mhuime sios gu arach
nan amhusg far an robh Clann Uisne
agus Deirdire tamh. Cha robh doigh
no innleachd aice air sealltuinn air Deir-
dire ach troimh tholl bheag a’ bhigire a
bha air comhla an doruis. Sheall am
boirionnach a stigh troimh tholl a’
bhigire agus thill i dachaidh far an
robh Conachar. ‘Seadh, a mhuime,

DEIRDIRE 83

raised the bright and blazing fire, and
they were comfortable enough till
morning.

But the man who was up was becom-
ing impatient that he was not getting
word up how they were faring down in
the house of the mercenaries. ‘Go
thou down, foster-mother,’ said he,
‘and see if her own bloom and beauty
are still upon Deirdire, and if she is
what she was when she went away
from me. If so, I will win Deirdire at
the edge of the lance and by the point
of the sword, despite the Feinne at
their best; but if not, be she Naoise’s
own. The foster-mother went down
to the quarters of the mercenaries,
where the Clann Uisne and Deirdire
dwelt. She had no way or device of look-
ing at Deirdire but through the small
chicken-hole on the door. The woman
gazed through the chicken-hole, and she
returned home to Conachar. ‘ Well,

84 DEIRDIRE

cia-mar tha i coimhead? no bheil a
dreach agus a tuar fhein air Deirdire ?’
orsa Conachar. ‘Tha bhlath agus a’
bhuil gur ann air iomairt agus air an-
radh a bha gradh mo chridhe agus sugh
mo cheille bho ’n a dh’ fhalbh i; cha
mhor a tha d’ a dealbh no d’ a dreach
fhein air Deirdire an nochd,’ ors’ a’
mhuime. ‘ Cha’n fhuilear leam dearbh-
adh eile air a sin fhathast m’ an teid
mi ga leigeil seachad. Falbh thusa, a
Ghealbhain Ghreadhnaich, a mhic righ
Lochlainn, a sios, agus thoir brath a nios
thugam sa s’ am bheil a dreach agus a
dealbh fhein air Deirdire. Ma tha
bheir mise mach i le faobhar lainn agus le
rinn claidhimh ; agus mur bheil bitheadh
i aig Naois mac Uisne dha fhein,’ orsa
Conachar.

Chaidh an Gealbhan Greadhnach,
greannar, mac Righ Lochlainn, a sios
gu arach nan amhusg far an robh
Clann Uisne agus Deirdire tamh.

DEIRDIRE 85

foster-mother, and how now does she
look ? or are her own bloom and beauty
still upon Deirdire?’ ‘It is clear and
evident that it is through suffering and
sorrow that the love of my heart and
the treasure of my reason has been since
she went away; there is not much of
her own bloom or beauty upon Deirdire
this night.’ ‘I will need another proof
than that yet ere I let her pass. Go
thou, Gealbhan Greadhnach, thou son
of the king of Lochlann, down, and
bring me up information are her own
bloom and beauty on Deirdire. If they
are, | will win her at the edge of the
blade and the point of the sword; and
if not, she may be with Naoise, son of
Uisne, for himself,’ said Conachar.

The gallant Gealbhan Greadhnach,
the son of the king of Lochlann, went
down to the quarters of the mercenaries
where the Clann Uisne and Deirdire

86 DEIRDIRE

Sheall e stigh air toll a’ bhigire a bha
air a’ chomhla. Am boirionnach sin ris
an robh a ghnothach b’ abhaist di dol
na caoire dearga teine ri linn do neach_
sealltuinn oirre. Thug Naois suil air
Deirdire agus dh’ aithnich e gu’n robh
cuideigin a’ coimhead oirre cul na
comhla. Thug e tarruinn air aon de na
disne geala bha air a’ bhord mu choin-
neamh, agus sadar sud troimh tholl a’
bhigire agus cuirear an t-suil as a’
Ghealbhan Ghreadhnach, ghreannar,
agus a mach air chul a chinn. Thill
an Gealbhan a suas dachaidh gu pailios
Righ Conachair. ‘ Bha thu greadhnach,
greannar, a falbh, ach chi mi mi-
ghreadhnach mi-ghreannar thu a’ til-
leadh. Gu de so dh’ eirich duit, a
Ghealbhain? Ach am fac thus ise, no
bheil a dreach agus a tuar fhein air
Deirdire?’ orsa Conachar. ‘An ta
chunnaic mise Deirdire, agus chunnaic
mi gu dearbh i cuideachd, agus ri linn

DEIRDIRE 87

abode. He looked in through the
chicken-hole which was on the door.
That woman with whom his business
was, was wont to go into glowing |
blushes of red fire when a person looked
on her. Naoise glanced at Deirdire,
and he observed that some one was
looking on her from behind the door.
He seized one of the white dice on the
board before “him, and he threw it
through the chicken-hole and drove the
eye out of the gallant Gealbhan Greadh-
nach and out at the back of his head.
The Gealbhan went back home to the
palace of King Conachar. ‘Thou
wert cheerful and joyful going, but
I see thee cheerless and joyless return-
ing. What is this has happened thee,
Gealbhan? But hast thou seen her,
or are her own bloom and beauty on
Deirdire?’ said Conachar.. ‘ Well, I
have seen Deirdire, and I have seen
her indeed too, and while I was looking

88 DEIRDIRE

domh bhith coimhead oirre troimh tholl
a’ bhigire a bha air a’ chomhla, chuir
Naois, mac Uisne, an t-suil asam leis an
disne bha na laimh. Ach gu dearbh
agus gu deimhinn ge do chuir e an
t-suil fhein asam b’ e mo mbhiann
fuireach fathast a’ coimhead oirre leis
an t-suil eile mur bhith chabhag a chuir
sibh orm,’ ars’ an Gealbhan. ‘Is fior
sin, orsa Conachar. ‘ Rachadh tri
cheud treun ghaisgeach a sios gu aros
nan amhusg agus thugadh iad a nios
thugamsa Deirdire agus marbhadh iad
cach.’

‘Tha an tdrachd a’ tighinn,’ orsa
Deirdire. ‘Theid mi fhein a mach
agus caisgidh mi an torachd,’ orsa
~ Naois. ‘Cha tu theid a mach ach mise,’
ors am Boinne Borb, mac Fhearchair
ic Ro; ‘is ann rium a dh’ earb m’athair
gun bheud, gun bhaoghal a leigeadh
oirbh ri linn dha fhein a dhol dachaidh.’
Agus chaidh am Boinne Borb a mach

DEIRDIRE 89

at her through the chicken-hole that
was on the door, Naoise, the son of
Uisne, put the eye out of me with the
dice which was in his hand. But of
a truth and verity, though he drove
the eye itself out of me, I would fain
have continued to gaze at her with
the other eye had it not been for the
hurry you put on me.’ ‘ That is true,’
said Conachar. ‘Let three hundred
mighty heroes of valour go down to
the quarters of the mercenaries, and
let them bring me up Deirdire, and kill
the others.’

‘ The pursuit is coming,’ said Deirdire.
‘I myself will go out and check the
pursuit, said Naoise. ‘It is not thou
but I who will go out,’ said Boinne
Borb, the son of Fearachar, the son of
Ro. ‘It was to me that my father
entrusted not to let injury or danger
on you when he himself went home.’
And the Boinne Borb went out, and

=

90 DEIRDIRE

agus mharbh e trian dhe na gaisgich.’
Thainig an righ a mach agus dh’ eubh
e shuas, ‘Co sud shios air a’ bhlar, a’
deanamh ar air mo chuid daoine?’
‘Tha mise, am Boinne Borb, ciad mhac
Fhearchair ’ic Ro.’ ‘Thug mi drochaid
(tricha cet) shaor do d’ sheanair, drochaid
(tricha cet) shaor do d’ athair, agus bheir
mi drochaid (tricha cet) shaor duit fhein
cuideachd, agus thig a nall air an laimh
so dhiom an nochd,’ ors’ an Conachar.
‘An ta, gabhaidh mi sin,’ agus cuirear
am Boinne Borb an car tuathal deth
agus rachar a null air laimh an righ.
‘Chaidh am fear ud a null air laimh an
righ,’ orsa Deirdire. ‘ Chaidh, ach rinn
e feum math mu ’n d’ fhalbh e,’ orsa
Naois.

Dh’ orduich an sin an Conachar tri
cheud lan ghaisgeach a sios gu aros nan
amhusg, agus Deirdire thoir a nios
agus cach a mharbhadh. ‘Tha an
torachd a’ tighinn, orsa Deirdire.

—_—aw,

DEIRDIRE 91

he killed a third of the warriors. The
king came out, and he called from
above, ‘ Who is that down on the plain
slaying my people?’ ‘I am the Boinne.
Borb, the first son of Fearachar, the
son of Ro.’ ‘I gave a free cantred
(of land) to thy grandfather, a free
eantred to thy father, and I will give
a free cantred to thyself too, and come
over on this hand of me to-night,’ said
the Conachar. ‘ Well, I will take
that from you,’ and the Boinne Borb
turned wither-shins, and went over to
the hand of the king. ‘That man is
gone over to the hand of the king,’ said
Deirdire. ‘He has gone, but he per-
formed good work before he went,’ said
Naoise.

Then Conachar ordered three hundred
full warriors down to the quarters of
the mercenaries to bring up Deirdire,
and to kill the others. ‘The pur-
suit is coming,’ said Deirdire. ‘It is,’

92 DEIRDIRE

‘Tha,’ orsa Naois, ‘ach theid mi fhein
a mach agus caisgidh mi an tdrachd.’
‘ Cha tu theid a mach ach mise,’ ors’ an
Cuilionn Cruaidh, mac Fhearchair ’ic
Ro; ‘is ann rium adh’ earb m’ athair
gun bheud, gun bhaoghal a leigeadh
oirbh an uair a dh’ fhalbh e fhein
dachaidh.’ Agus chaidh an Cuilionn
Cruaidh a mach agus mharbh e da
thrian na cuideachd. Thainig an
Conachar a mach agus dh’ eubh e shuas,
‘Co sud shios air a’ bhlar a’ deanamh
dr air mo chuid daoine?’ ‘Tha mise
an Cuilionn Cruaidh, dara mac Fhear-
chair ‘ic Ro. ‘Thug mi drochaid
(tricha cet) shaor dha d’ sheanair, dro-
chaid (tricha cet) shaor dha d’ athair,
drochaid (tricha cet) shaor dha d’ bhrath-
air, agus bheir mi drochaid (tricha cet)
shaor dhuit fhein cuideachd agus thig
a nall air an laimh so dhiom a nochd,’
ors an Conachar. ‘An ta gabhaidh mi
sin, ors’ an Cuilionn Cruaidh, agus

DEIRDIRE 93

said Naoise, ‘but I myself will go
out and check the pursuit.’ ‘It is
not thou but I who will go out,’ said
the Cuilionn Cruaidh, the son of -
Fearachar, the son of Ro; ‘it was to
me that my father entrusted to allow
no mishap or danger to you when he
himself went home.’ And the Cuilionn
Cruaidh went out and he killed two-
thirds of the company. Conachar
came out and he called from above,
‘Who is that down on the plain slay-
ing my people?’ ‘I am the Cuilionn
Cruaidh, the second son of Fearachar,
the son of Ro.’ ‘I gave a free cantred
to thy grandfather, a free cantred to
thy father, a free cantred to thy
brother, and I will give a free cantred
to thyself too, and come over on this
hand of me to-night,’ said Conachar.
‘Well, I will take that,’ said the
Cuilionn Cruaidh; and he went over
to the hand of the king. ‘That man

94, DEIRDIRE \

ghabh e null air laimh an righ.
‘Chaidh am fear ud a null air taobh
an righ,’ orsa Deirdire. ‘ Chaidh,’ orsa
Naois, ‘ach rinn e gniomh gaisgich m’
an d’ fhalbh e.’

Dh’ orduich Conachar an sin tri cheud
luth ghaisgeach a sios gu aros nan
amhusg, agus Deirdire thoirt a nios
agus cach a mbharbhadh. ‘Tha an
torachd a’ tighinn,’ orsa Deirdire. ‘Tha
ach theid mi fhein a mach agus caisgidh
mi an torachd,’ orsa Naois. ‘Cha tu
theid a mach ach mise,’ ors’ am Fiallan
Fionn ; ‘is ann rium a dh’ earb m’ athair
gun bheud, gun bhaoghal a leigeil oirbh
an uair a dh’ fhalbh e fhein dachaidh.’
Agus chaidh an t-og ghallan ur-allail,
ur-fhearail, ur-sgiamhach, le chiabha
leadarra, donn, a mach crioslaichte na
arm-chatha chruaidh chomhraig agus
comhdaichte na chulaidh chomhraig
chatha chruaidh a bha gu liobha, liobh-

arra, loinnreach, lannrach, leusrach, air

DEIRDIRE 95

has gone over to the hand of the king,’
said Deirdire. ‘He has gone,’ said
Naoise, ‘ but he performed gallant deeds
before he went.’

Conachar then ordered three hun-
dred strong heroes down to the quar-
ters of the mercenaries to bring up
Deirdire and to kill the others. ‘ The
pursuit is coming, said Deirdire.
‘Yes, but I myself will go out and
check the pursuit, said Naoise. ‘It
is not thou who will go out but I,’
said the Fillan Fionn; ‘it was to
me that my father entrusted to allow
no injury or danger to you when he
himself went home.’ And the young
hero, fresh-noble, fresh-manly, fresh-
glorious, with his lovely brown locks,
went out girded in his war weapons
of hard battle, and clothed in his
clothing of hard combat and _ battle,
that was polished, gleaming, glitter-

96 DEIRDIRE

am bu lionmhor dealbh beist, ian agus
biasd shnagach, leigheann (7), leoghann,
tiger, gniomh-ineach, iolaire dhonn agus
seabhag shiubhlach agus nathair bheur-
ach, agus chasgraich an t-og ghaisgeach
treas trian na cuideachd. Thainig
Conachar a mach an graide agus
dh’ eubh e le feirg, ‘Co sud shios air
urlar blair a deanamh ar air mo chuid
daoine?’ ‘Tha mise, am Fiallan Fionn,
treasa mac Fhearachair ’ic Ro.’ ‘ An ta,’
ors’ an righ, ‘thug mi drochaid (tricha
cet) shaor do d’ sheanair, agus drochaid
(tricha cet) shaor dha d’ athair, agus
drochaid (tricha cet) shaor am fear dha
do dha bhrathair, agus bheir mi drochaid
(tricha cet) shaor dhuit fhein cuideachd
agus thig a null air an laimh so dhiom
an nochd.’ ‘An ta, Chonachair, cha
ghabh mi an tairgse sin uait no taing
air a son. Is motha gu mor is fearr
leam fhein dol dachaidh agus innseadh
an lathaireachd m’athar an treuntas a

DEIRDIRE 97

ing, brilliant, flashing, on which were
the many figures of beasts, birds, and
creeping things—leigheann (?) lion, tiger
and griffin, brown eagle and swift hawk .
and deadly serpent—and the young
gallant checked the third third (three-
thirds?) of the band. Conachar came out
in haste, and asked in wrath, ‘ Who is
there down on the floor of the plain mak-
ing slaughter on my people?’ ‘Iam, the
Fillan Fionn, the third son of Fearachar,
the son of Ro. ‘ Well,’ said the king,
‘I gave a free cantred to thy grandfather,
a free cantred to thy father, and free
cantreds to both thy brothers, and I
will give thee a free cantred too, and
come over on this hand of me to-night.’
‘Well, Conachar, I will not accept
that offer from thee, nor thank thee
for it. Much more do I prefer to go
home, and to tell in the presence of
my father the heroism I have done,
than any one thing which I could
G

98 DEIRDIRE

rinn mi, seach aon dad a gheibhinn
uaitse ga chinn anns an doigh sin.
Agus tha Naois mac Uisne, agus Aillean
agus Ardan cho cairdeach duit fhein
agus a tha iad domhsa, ged tha thu
co titheach air am fuil a dhortadh, agus ~
dhoirteadh ‘tu m’ fhuil-sa cuideachd, a
Chonachair.. Agus thill an t-og allail,
fearail, sgiamhach, le chiabha leadarra,
donn, a steach agus tuis dhealtraidh
m’ an ghnuis aluinn bu ghile ’s a bu
deirge snuadh. ‘Tha mise a nis,’ ors’
esan, ‘a’ dol dachaidh a dh’ innseadh do
m’ athair gu bheil sibhse a nis sabhailt -
bho lamhan an righ.’

Agus dh’ fhalbh am fiuran ur, direach,
deasarra, donn agus ciatach, dachaidh a
dh’ innseadh d’ a athair gu’n robh Clann
Uisne sabhailte. Bha so ann an deal-
achadh nan trath agus ann an dail na
camhanaich, agus thuirt Naois gu’m bu
choir daibh falbh agus astail ud fhagail
agus tilleadh a dh’ Albainn.

DEIRDIRE 99

receive from thee, especially in that
manner. And Naoise, the son of Uisne,
and Aillean and Ardan are as near of
kin to thee as they are to me, though
thou art so keen to spill their blood,
and thou wouldst spill my blood too,
Conachar.. And the proud, manly,
handsome youth, with his beautiful
brown locks, returned to the house, the
dewy incense around the noble coun-
tenance of whitest and reddest of hues.
‘T am now, said he, ‘ going home to tell
to my father that you are now safe from
the hands of the king.’ .

And the young, straight, handsome
hero, brown and splendid, went away
home to tell his father that the Children
of Uisne were safe. This was about the
parting of night from day, at the delay
of the morning dawn, and Naoise said
that they should go away, and leave
this house and return to Albain.

100 DEIRDIRE

Vv

Dh’ fhalbh Naois agus Deirdire,
Aillean agus Ardan, chum tilleadh do
dh’ Albainn. Chaidh brath a suas thun
an righ gun robh a bhuidheann air
an robh e an toir air falbh. Chuir an
righ an sin fios air Duanan Gacha
Draogh, druidhiche bha aige fhein, agus
thuirt e ris mar so :—‘ Is mor am beairt-
eas a chosd mise riutsa, a Dhuanain
Gacha Draogh, a toirt sgoil agus
foghlum agus diomhaireachd druidhiche
duit ged a tha iad sud air falbh uamsa an
diugh gun dit, gun dion, gun suim aca
domh, gun chothrom agam air cur riu,
gun chomas agam air an tilleadh.’ ‘Ma
ta, tillidh mise iad,’ ors’ an druidhiche,
‘gus an till a’ chuideachd a chuir thu
air an toir.. Agus chuir an druidhiche
coille rompa troimh nach b’ urrainn do
dhuine falbh. Ach ghabh Clann Uisne
troimh ’n choill gun tilleadh, gun

DEIRDIRE 101

V

Naoise and Deirdire, Aillean and
Ardan, left to return to Albain. Word
went up to the king that the company,
of whom he was in search, had gone
away. Then the king sent word to
Duanan Gacha Draogh, a druid of his
own, and he spoke to him thus: ‘ Great
is the wealth that I have spent upon
thee, Duanan Gacha Draogh, giving
thee schooling and learning and the
secrets of druidism, though those are
gone away from me to-day without
choice, without heed, without respect
for me, without my ability to check
them, without power to turn them.’
‘Well, I will turn them,’ said the
druid, ‘till those whom you sent in
pursuit return.’ And the druid placed a
wood before them, through which no one
could go. But the Children of Uisne
went through the wood without turn-

102 DEIRDIRE

tearbadh, agus bha Deirdire air laimh
aig Naoise. ‘De ga math sud, cha dean
e foghnadh fathast,’ orsa Conachar ;
‘iad a falbh gun lubadh air an cas, gun
chasadh air an ceum, gun dit aca
diomsa, gun mheas ac’ orm, agus gun
chomas agams’ air cur riu agus mi gun
chothrom air an tilleadh an nochd.’

‘Fiachaidh mise doigh eile daibh,’ ors’
an druidh; agus chuir e fairge ghlas
rompa air a’ mhachaire ghuirm. Ruisg
an triuir dlach iad fhein agus cheangail
iad an cuid aodaich air chul an cinn ©
agus chuir Naois Deirdire ’n a suidhe air’.

bhac a dha shlinnein.

‘Shin iad an taobh ri sruth,
’S bu cho-ionann leo muir ’s tir,

An fhairge mholach ghlas,
Ris a’ mhachaire ghorm mhin.’

‘Ge math sud, a Dhuanain, cha toir e
tilleadh air na daoine,’ orsa Conachar ;
‘gun ditt aca diom, gun urram aca

DEIRDIRE 103

ing, without hindrance, and Naoise had
Deirdire by the hand. ‘ However good
that is it will not yet suffice,’ said
Conachar, ‘they going without the
bending of foot, without the turning
of step, without heed for me, without
respect for me, and I without ability
to put against them, or power to turn
them back this night.’

‘I will try another way with them,’
said the druid, and he placed a grey
sea before them on the green plain.
The three brave heroes bared themselves
and tied their share of clothing behind
their heads, and Naoise placed Deirdire
on the bend of his two shoulders.

‘They stretched their sides to the stream,

Indifferent to them was sea or land ;

The grey, shaggy sea,
Or the green, smooth machair.’

‘Though that is good, Duanan, it does
not turn the men,’ said Conachar, ‘they
without heed for me, without respect

104 DEIRDIRE

domh, agus gun chomas agam air cur
riu no an tilleadh an nochd.’
‘Fiachaidh sinn doigh eile riu bho
nach do chuir sud stad orra,’ ors’ an.
druidhiche. Agus reddh an druidhiche
an fhairge chorrach ghlas na cnapan
carrach cruaidh, géiread lainn airan dara
h-oir agus nimhead nathrach air an oir
eile dhi. Dh’ eubh an sin Ardan gu robh
e fhein a’ fas sgith agus an anar toirt
fairis. ‘Thig thus, Ardan, agus suidh
air mo ghuala dheis,’ orsa Naois. Agus
thainig Ardan agus shuidh e air guala
Naois. Ach cha robh e fada mar sin
an uair a fhuair Ardan bas; ach ged a
bha e marbh fhein cha robh Naois ga
leigeadh as. Dh’ eubh an sin Aillean
gun robh e fhein a’ fas fann agus an
anar toirt fairis. An uaira chuala Naois
an achuinge leig e osna ghoint’ a’ bhais
as, agus dh’ iarr e air Aillean greim a
dheanamh air, agus gu’n toireadh esan
gu tir e. Ach cha robh Aillean fada

DEIRDIRE 105

for me, and me without ability to hinder
them or to turn them back to-night.’
‘We will try another way with them
since that did not stop them,’ said the
druid. And the druid froze the grey,
uneven sea into jagged, hard lumps,
the sharpness of swords on one side
of them and the venom of serpents on
the other. Then Ardan called that he
himself was becoming tired and nearly
giving up. ‘Come thou, Ardan, and
sit on my right shoulder,’ said Naoise.
And Ardan came and he sat on the
shoulder of Naoise. But he was not
long there when Ardan died; but
though he was dead, Naoise was not
letting him go. Then Aillean called
that he himself was becoming tired and
nearly giving up. When Naoise heard
the confession he heaved the sore sigh of
death, and he desired Aillean to hold
on to him and that he would bring him
to land. But Aillean was not long that

106 DEIRDIRE

mar sin an uair a thainig laigse bhais
air agus dh’ fhailnich a ghreim. Sheall
Naois uaith agus an trath chunnaic e
gun robh a dha bhrathair a ghradhaich
e cho mor, marbh, bha e coma co dhiu
bhitheadh e fhein marbh no beo, agus
leig e osna ghoirt a’ bhais agus sgain a
chridhe.

‘Tha iad sud seachad,’ orsa Duanan
Gacha Draogh ris an righ, ‘agus rinn
mise mar a shir thu orm. Tha Clann
Uisne nis marbh agus cha chuir iad
dragh tuille ort, agus tha aobhar do
mhna agus do leannain agadsa slan,
fallain.’

‘A bheannachd sin agadsa agus
a’ bhuaidh agam fhein, a Dhuanain.
Cha chall leamsa sin na chosd mi riutsa
a’ toirt sgoil agus ionnsachaidh duit.
Tiormaich a nis a’ bhaile agus feuch
am faic mise Deirdire,’ orsa Conachar.
Agus thiormaich Duanan Gacha Draogh
a’ bhaile agus bha triuir mhac Uisne

DEIRDIRE 107

way when the weakness of death came
upon him, and his hold relaxed. Naoise
looked from him, and when he saw that
his two brothers whom he loved so.
greatly were dead, he cared not whether
he himself were dead or alive, and he
heaved the sore sigh of death, and his
heart rent.

‘Those are now past, said Duanan
Gacha Draogh to the king, ‘and I
have done as thou didst seek of me.
The Children of Uisne are now dead,
and they shall trouble thee no more,
while thou hast thy wife-to-be, and
thy sweetheart, whole and hale.’

‘The honour of that to thee, and
the gain to me, Duanan. [I call it no
loss all that I spent on thee in giving
thee schooling and learning. Dry now
the sea, so that I may behold Deirdire,’
said Conachar. And Duanan Gacha
Draogh dried the sea, and the three
sons of Uisne were lying together dead,

108 DEIRDIRE

na ’n laighe comhla marbh, gun deo,
taobh ri taobh air a’ mhachaire mhin
ghuirm, agus Deirdire crom os an cionn
a’ fras-shileadh nan deur. :

Chruinnich an sin a’ chuideachd
eruinn timchioll corp nan laoch, agus
dh’ fheoraich iad dha ’n righ gu de
dheantadh ris na cuirp. Is e an t-drdan
a thug an righ seachad an uair sin
sloc a threachailt agus an _ triuir
bhrathair a chur comhla, taobh ri taobh
anns an aon uaigh.

Bha Deirdire na suidhe air bruaich
na h-uagha agus i sior iarraidh air
luchd-treachailt na h-uaghach an sloc
a chladhach leathann, reidh. An trath
chuireadh cuirp nam braithrean anns an
uaigh, thuirt Deirdire—

‘Teann a nall, a Naoise mo ghraidh,
Druideadh Ardan ri Aillean,

Nan robh ciall aig mairbh,
Dheanadh sibhs’ aite dhomhsa.’

Rinn iad sin. lLeum ise a sios an sin

DEIRDIRE 109

without life, side by side on the green,
smooth machair, and Deirdire bending
over their corpses heavy-showering the
tears.

Then the people gathered round the
corpses of the heroes, and they asked
the king what should be done to their
bodies. It was the order that the
king gave then to dig a pit and to
put the three brothers together side
by side in the same grave.

Deirdire was sitting on the bank
of the grave, and she ever asking the
people digging the grave to dig the
pit broad and smooth. When the
bodies of the brothers were laid in
the grave Deirdire said—

* Move thou hither, O Naoise of my love;
Close thou Ardan over to Aillean ;

If dead had understanding,
Ye would make place for me.’

They did this. Then Deirdire leapt

110 DEIRDIRE

anns an uaigh agus laigh i sios ri Naois,
agus bha i marbh r’ a thaobh.

Dh’ orduich an droch righ a corp
a thogail as an uaigh agus a thiodh-
lacadh taobh thall an locha. Rinneadh
mar a dh’orduich an righ agus dhuin-
eadh an sloc. Chinn an sin gath giubh-
ais as an uaigh aig Deirdire, agus
gath giubhais as an uaigh aig Naois,
agus chuir an da ghath snaim diubh os
cionn an locha. Dh’ orduich an sin an
righ an da ghath ghiubhais a ghearradh
sios, agus rinneadh so da thurus gus an
d’ thug a’ bhean a phos an righ air sgur
d’ an droch obair agus d’ a dhioladh air
slighe nam marbh.

DEIRDIRE 111

down into the grave, and she lay close
to Naoise, and she was dead by his side.

The wicked king ordered her body
to be lifted out of the grave and to be
buried on the other side of the loch.
It was done as the king commanded,
and the grave was closed. Then a
young pine branch grew from the grave
of Deirdire; and a young pine branch
from the grave of Naoise, and the two
branches twined together over the lake.
Then the king commanded that the
two young pine branches should be cut
down, and this was done twice, till the
wife whom the king married made him
to cease the bad work and his persecu-
tion of the way of the dead.

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LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

(LAY OF THE CHILDREN OF UISNE)

INTRODUCTORY

THE Lay of the Children of Uisne was
taken down on 15th March 1867, from
‘Domhull gobha’—Donald the smith,
otherwise Donald Macphie, smith, Breu-
bhaig, in the island of Barra. Donald
Macphie was already an old man when
I came to know him in 1865, but he
was still a big muscular man of good
form and features, and he must have
been a handsome, powerful man when
young. His nature was calm and
kindly, while his memory was full of
old lore and old traditions heard in his
boyhood.

He had heard this poem from an old

114

INTRODUCTORY 115

man at Eoligearry, who had died long
before I knew Donald Macphie.* He .
had heard it again from an old man
who had gone to Cape Breton with his
children and his grandchildren when
the crofters were evicted from Grinn
and Cliat in Barra. Donald Macphie
said that many many books could have
been filled in his youth with old tales
and poems from the old men and women
in Barra.

' This old man was known throughout the Isles as
‘Dall Mor Eoiligearruidh ’—the big blind of Eoligearry.
He was ceolaire—musician to General Roderick Macneill
of Barra, the last of a hardy, intrepid race. The man
was blind from boyhood, but the loss of sight would
seem to have strengthened and intensified the other
faculties. The Dall Mor played with equal skill upon
several instruments. He had a marvellous ear for old-
world music and melodies, and a wonderful memory
for old songs and hymns, most of which died with
him when he died. The man was unlettered, and
knew Gaelic only.

LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

A Chlann Uisne nan each geala
Is sibh an tir nam fear fuileach,
Gu de e do bhi air ’ur n-eachaibh ?
Na ’n cion-fath a ta ’g ’ur cumail ?

Ta ’g ’ur cumail fada bhuainn,

’S gur ann leibh a chuirteadh an ruaig,
Do lannan bagairt ’ur namhaid,

Agus amhluadh anns a chumasg.

Ach chuireadh leibh ’ur long a mach
A chaitheadh a chuain gu h-eolach,
Bha Naos bu treise ’g a seoladh,
Agus Aille, maise nan ogan.

Bha Ardan bu deise.’g a stiuireadh,
Air freasdal dithist bhrathar iulmhor—
Tha ghaoth, gun eismeil ri sgeimh

A gleachd ri trillse grinne, reidh.

116

LAY OF THE CHILDREN OF UISNE

Ye Children of Uisne of the white steeds,
And you in the land of the men of blood,
What is it that ails your horses ?

Or what cause does you delay ?

That keeps you so long from us,

And that it is you who would force retreat
Upon the threatening arms of our foes,
And cause confusion in the combat.

But you have sent your ship afloat,
To traverse the ocean skilfully,
Naos, most mighty, was sailing her,
And Aille, most beauteous of youths.

Ardan, most deft, was steering her,

To the guidance of the two skilful
brothers—

The wind, which heeds not beauty,

Struggles with her smooth, lovely lines.
117

118 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

Cadal shul is beag a tlachd

Dha ’n mhnaoi tha aca ri deoireachd,
Mar tha ’n oidhche falach a boichead
Tha Dearduil dubhach dubh-bhronach.

Dearduil thug barrachd an ailleachd
Air mnathan eile na Feinne,

Cha choimeasar rithse cach

Ach mar bhaideal air sgath na reultaig.

‘Gu de fath do thurs’ a bhean ?

Agus sinne beo ri do bheatha,

Is nach aithne duinn neach d’ar buadhachd,
An ceithir ranna ruadh an domhan,’

‘ Aisling a chunnacas an raoir

Oirbhse a thriuir bhraithre bharra-chaoin—
Bhur cuibhreach agus bhur cur ’s an uaigh
Leis a Chonachar chlaon ruadh,’

‘ Air chlacha sin, agus air chranna,
Agus air lacha nan lianta,
Agus air chuileana fiar an t-sionnaich,

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 119

Sleep of eyes is but little to the liking
Of the woman whom they have weeping,
As night conceals her loveliness
Dearduil is sad with black sorrow.

Dearduil who excelled in beauty

All other women of the Feinne,

With her no other woman compares

But as a cloud in the shade of the starlet.

‘What is the cause of thy grief, O woman?
And that we live but for thy sake,

And that we know none to subdue us,
Within the four red bounds of the world.’

‘A vision which I saw yestreen,

Of you, ye three all-excelling brothers—
That you were gyved and laid in the grave
By the wily red-haired Conachar.’

‘ By these stones, and by the trees,
And by the ducks upon the meres,
And by the cunning cubs of the fox,

120 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

‘Gu de bheireadh sinne’n dail an laoich ?
Agus farsuinneachd fairg’ a muigh,

Agus a liv’ cala, caol is cuan

’S am faodamaid tarruinn gun uamhas,’

Cadal na h-og mhna ni’m bi faoin,

Ts diomhain bhi spairneachd ri gaoith,
Loch-Eite nan sian bu chian o ’n iul,
Agus Cona-thuil nan cranna-choill ura.

Cha tig soirbheas a deas, mo nuar!
Cha ’n islich friodh na gaoithe tuath,
Cha tig Naos air ais ri a re,

Cha tog e ri bruthach an fheidh.

Ris tha Coigeamh a dluthadh,

Is Conachar nan car na mhur ann,
Agus an tir uile fo a smachd

Anns na ghabh Dearduil a tlachd.

Bu shoinmheil le Dearduil an t-og,
Agus aghaidh mar shoillse an lo,
Air li an fhithich do bha ghruag,
Bu deirge na ’n sugh a ghruaidh,

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 121

‘What would bring us in the presence of the
hero ?

While wideness of sea lies before us,

And the many havens, straits, and oceans

To which we might draw without dread.’

Nor vain was the sleep of the maiden,

Useless it is to strive with the wind,

Loch Etive of the storms is far from their
course,

And Connel of the fresh forest-trees.

No wind shall come from the south, my grief!
The venom of the north wind shall not cease,
Naos shall never come back in his life,

He shall never ascend the hill of the deer.

To him Coigeamh? is nearing,

And Conachar of the wiles in his palace there,
And the country all is under his sway
Wherein Dearduil gave of her love.

Delightful to Dearduil was the youth,
Whose face was the brightness of day,
Of the lustre of the raven were his locks,
Redder than the rasp were his cheeks.

1 See note.

122 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

Bha chneas mar chobhar nan struth,
Bha mar uisge balbh a ghuth,

Do bha chridhe fearail, fial,

Agus aobhach ciuin mar a ghrian.

Ach ’n uair dh’ eireadh a fhraoch is fhearg
Bi’ choimeas an fhairge gharg,
B’ ionnan agus neart nan tonn
Fuaim nan lann aig an t-sonn.

Mar reodhairt a bhuinne bhorb

Bha e’s an araich ri streup cholg
Am facas le Dearduil e an tus,

’S 1’g amharc bho mhullach an duin.

‘Tonmhuinn,’ ors’ an oig thlath,
‘An t-aineol bho bhlar nam beud,
Ach is goirt le cridh’ a mhathar
A dhainead ri uchd na streup.’

‘A nighean Cholla nan sgiath,

Do radh Naois bu tiamhaidh fonn,
‘Ge fada bhuainn Alba nam Fiann,
Agus Eite nan ciar aighe donn,’

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 123

His skin was like the foam of streams,
Like quiet waters was his voice,

His heart was manly and generous,
And gladsome, gentle as the sun.

But when arose his wrath and his ire
His likeness was the ocean fierce,

Like unto the strength of the waves
Was the sound of the arms of the hero.

Like the springtide’s violent flood

Was he in battle at strife of swords

Where Dearduil saw him first,

And she looking from the top of the tower.

‘Beloved,’ said the lovely maiden,

‘Is the stranger from the field of war,
But anguish to the heart of his mother
Is his boldness in the van of the strife.’

‘Thou daughter of Coll of the shields,’
Said Naois of most melodious sound,
‘Though far from us is Alba of the Fianna,
And Etive of the dark brown hinds.’

124 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

‘Ach a Dhearduil is grinne nos,

Tha do chomhradh air fas fann,

Tha toirm nan stuadh agus na gaoith
A toir caochladh air d’ uirighleadh ann,’

‘B’ ioma-ghointe mo chridhe ma m’ athair, }
Agus chrom mi gu talamh ’ga thearnadh,

) Ach chaochail ruthadh a ghruaidh,
_Threig a shnuadh agus a chaileachd.’

Chaidh long Chlann Uisne air tir
Fo bhaile mor Righ Conachair.

Thainig Conachar a mach le feachd—
Fichead laoch ceann uallach—

‘Is dh’ fhiosraich e le briathra bras—
‘Co na sloigh ta air an luing so?’

‘Clann air seachran a ta sinn ann,
Triuir sinn a thainig thar tuinn,
Air einich ’s air comraich an Righ,
Tha gradh dilseachd ar cairdeis.’

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 125

‘But Dearduil of kindliest mien,

Thy speech has become weak,

The noise of the waves and of the wind
Is making change upon thine utterance,’

‘Much grieved was my heart for my father, |!
| And I bent to the ground to save him,
But the ruddiness of his cheek changed,
\His colour and his feeling forsook him,’

The ship of Clan Uisne went ashore
Below the great town of Conachar.

Conachar came out with forces—
Twenty proud-headed heroes—

And he demanded in words of wrath—
‘Who are the people upon this ship ?’

‘Children astray are we here,

Three who came over the waves,

On the truce and safeguarding of the King,
Is the faithful affection of our kinship.’

1 Though the reciter gave this verse as part of the
story it seems probable that it belongs to another poem.

126 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

‘Cha chlann air seachran liomsa sibh,
Cha bheirt saoidh a rinn sibh orm,
Thug sibh uam a bhean am braid—
Dearduil dhonn-shuileach, ghle-gheal.’

‘Eirich a Naois agus glac do chlaidheamh,
A dheagh mhic righ, is glan coimhead,

Ge nach faigheadh a cholunn shuaire

Ach a mhain aon chuairt dhe ’n anam.’

Chuir Naois a shailtean ri bord,

Agus ghlac e a chlaidheamh ‘na dhorn,
Bu gharg deannal nan deagh laoch,

A tuiteam air gach taobh d’ a bord.

Thorachadh mic Uisne’s a ghreis,

Mar thri ghallain a dh’ fhas gu deas

Air an sgrios le doinionn eitigh—

Cha d’ fhagadh meangan, meur no geug
dhiubh,

‘Gluais, a Dhearduil, as do luing,

A gheug ur an abhra dhuinn,

Agus cha ’n eagal dha do ghnuis ghlain,
Fuath, no eud, no achmhasan.

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 127

‘Not children astray are ye to me,

No act of hero to me have you done,

You took from me the woman in abduc-
tion—

Dearduil the brown eyed, the surpassing fair.

‘ Arise thou Naois and grasp thy glave,
Thou good son of a king, goodly to see,
Though thy comely body should get
But only one round of the soul.’ [?]

Naois placed his heels to the deck,
And he seized his sword in his grasp,

Fierce was the struggle of the bold warriors
As they fall on each side of her deck.

Overpowered were the sons of Uisne in the
strife,

Like three saplings that grew beauteously

Destroyed by the blasting storm—

Nor branch, nor bough, nor twig of them is
left.

‘Move thou, Dearduil, from thy ship,

Thou fairest branch of the brown eyebrows,
And naught to fear has thy pure face

Of hatred, or jealousy, or reproach,’

128 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

‘Cha teid mi mach as mo luing
Gu’m faigh mi mo rogha athchuinge.

‘Cha tir, cha talamh, cha tuar,

Cha triuir bhraithre bu ghlain snuadh,
Cha ’n or, cha ’n airgiod, ’s cha ’n eich,
Cha mho is bean uaibhreach mise.

‘Ach mo chead a dhol dha ’n traigh,

Far am bheil Clann Uisne ’n an tamh,

Agus gu’n tiubhrainn na tri poga mine,
meala

Dha ’n tri corpa caomha, caona, geala.’

Ghluais Dearduil a’ sin dha ’n traigh,
Agus fhuair i saor a snaitheadh ramh,
A sgian aige na leth-laimh,

A thuagh aige na laimh eile.

‘A shaoir is fearr ga ’m facas riamh
Gu de air an toireadh tu an sgian ?

Is e bheirinnse duit ga clonn

Aon fhainne buadhach na h-Hireann.’

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 129

‘T will not go out of my ship
Till I obtain my choice petition.

‘Nor land, nor country, nor riches,

Nor three brothers of fairest countenance,
Nor gold, nor silver, nor horses,

Neither, or am I a proud woman.

‘But my leave to go to the strand,

Where the Children of Uisne lie in their
stillness,

That I may print the three kisses smooth,
honeyed

Upon their three dear, beautiful, fair corpses.

Then moved Dearduil to the strand,
And there found a wright trimming oars,
His knife he had in his one hand,

His axe he had in his other hand.

‘Thou wright, the best that ever was seen,
For what wouldst thou give thy knife ?
What I would give thee in return
Is the one precious ring of Erin.’

I

130 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

Shanntaich an saor am fainne

Air a ghrinnead, air a dheisead, air aillead.
Agus thug e do Dhearduil an sgian,
Rainig i leatha ionad a miann—

‘Cha ghairdeachas gun Chlann Uisne

O! is tursach gun bhi ’n ar cuallachd,

Tri mic righ le ’n diolta deoire,

An diugh gun chomhradh ri uchd uagha.

‘Triuir maghamhan Innse Breatuinn,
Triuir sheobhag shliabh a Chuillinn
Triuir da ’n geilleadh gaisgich,

Triuir da ’n tiubhradh amhuis urram.

‘Na tri eoin a b’ aillidh snuadh
A thainig thar chuan nam barc,
Triuir mhac Uisne an liuin ghrinn,
Mar thriuir eal’ air tuinn a snamh.

‘Theid mise gu aobhach, uallach,

Do ’n triuir uasal a b’ annsa,

Mo shaoghal ’n an deigh cha ’n fhada,
’S cha ’n eug fear-abhuilt domhsa.

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 131

The wright coveted the ring

For its fineness, its beauty, its loveliness,
And he gave to Dearduil the knife,

She reached with it the place of her desire—

‘There is no joy without the Children of
Uisne,

Oh! grievous not to be in your company,

Three sons of a king who helped the helpless,

To-day without speech on the bank of the
grave.

‘ Three bears of the Isles of Britain,

Three hawks of the hill of Cuillinn,?

Three to whom heroes would yield,

Three to whom hirelings would pay homage.

‘ The three birds of loveliest hues

That came over the ocean of billows,

The three sons of Uisne of pleasant mood,
Like three swans on the waves floating.

‘I will go joyfully, proudly,
To the three nobles most beloved,
My time behind them is not long,
Nor coward’s death is mine.

1 See note.

132 LAOIDH CHLANN UISNE

‘ Tri iallan nan tri con sin

Do bhuain osna ghoint’ o m’ chridhe,

Is ann agam fein a (nach?) bhidh an
tasgaidh

Mur faicinn an saor caomha.

‘A Chlann Uisne tha sud thall,

Sibh ’n ar laighe bonn ri bonn,

Na ’n sumhlaicheadh mairbh roimh bheo
Shumbhlaicheadh sibhse romhamsa.

‘Teann a nall a Naoise mo ghraidh,
Druideadh Ardan ri Aillein,

Na’n robh ciall aig mairbh
Dheanadh sibhse aite dhomhsa.’

LAY OF CHILDREN OF UISNE 133

‘The three leashes of these three hounds
Have drawn sore sighs from my heart,

It is 1 who would (not ?) have the treasure
Had I not seen the kindly wright.

‘Ye Children of Uisne over there,
Ye lying together sole to sole,

If dead could lie closer for living
Ye would lie closer for me,

‘Move hither, O Naoise of my love!
Let Ardan draw near to Aillein,

If dead had understanding

Ye would make room for me.’

ie
ue as
re.

4

Aen?

,

~—

:

NOTES

THE name Deirdire is variously given as Deirdre,
Deiridire, Dearduil, Deurduil, Dearshuil, Diarshula,
Deurthula. The form Deirdire seems to be con-
fined to the tale, and the form Dearduil to the
poems on the lady. In one form or another the
name is impressed upon localities throughout a
great length of country, from south Argyll to
north Inverness, and probably even beyond this.
Uisne takes the forms of Usna, Uisneach, Uis-
neachan, Snitheachan, and Sniothachan. Naois is
spoken of as Naos, Naosna, Naosnach, Naoisne,
Naoisneach with an open sound, and as Nis,
Nise, and Nis with a close sound. Aillein
varies as Aille, Ainle, Aluinn. Ardan is not
liable to much change. Lochness and the neigh-
bourhood of Inverness are identified with Deirdire
and the sons of Uisne. It is thought by some that
they lived on the site of ‘Caisteil Urchadain ’—
Castle Urquhart, at the mouth of Glen Urquhart,
on Lochness.

The story speaks of Clann Uisne being able to

kill the deer out of the window, and the salmon out
135

136 NOTES

of the door of their dwelling. Castle Urquhart is
one of several places connected with the tale in
which this could be done. The old reciters spoke
irregularly—some said ‘Loch Naois’ with an open
sound, and some said ‘ Loch Nis, Nis’ with a close
sound.

Slightly south of Inverness was a small lake,
which is now drained, called ‘Loch Dhearduil,’
while south-west of Inverness is a hill fort called
‘Dun Dearduil.’

Loch Etive is in Argyll, a land greatly studded
with fresh-water lakes, and as greatly severed with
salt-water lochs. Loch Etive runs in from the sea for
twenty-four miles, lying between hills all the way.
It is supposititiously divided into two equal parts,
called ‘Loch Eite Iochdrach,’ Lower Loch Etive,

and ‘Loch Eite Uachdrach,’ Upper Loch Etive.

It is the most varied, the most storied, the most
stormy, and the most beautiful loch in Scotland.
Its two divisions differ greatly. Lower Loch Etive
is wider and more varied, expanding here and there
into broad bays, and projected into here and there
by long peninsulas. On each side, between the
edge of the water and the base of the mountains,
runs a belt of arable land, irregularly broad, studded
with trees and fields, houses and churches. In
Upper Loch Etive the bases of the towering moun-
tains on each side descend immediately down to the
water. They continue thus for twelve miles to the
head of Loch Etive, and for six miles more to the
head of Glen Etive. Loch and glen resemble a

~~ =

NOTES 137

huge, deep railway cutting, through which the
winds blow up or down during the years and the
ages.

Loch Etive, Gaelic ‘ Hite,’ ‘ Eitigh,’ means wild,
stormy, raging, and no name could be more appro-
priate here, for Loch Etive is the dread of men
who have to navigate its dark waters in sailing
vessels, from the suddenness, fierceness, and con-
trariness with which the whirling winds come down
through the glens and ravines, and from the scarred

-mountain summits, moving everything that is mov-
able in their path.

The district of Loch Etive is deeply identified
with Deirdire and the sons of Uisne. The old
people who lived on the sides and at the head
of Loch Etive, in the glens which run _ back,
some of them for miles, among the mountains,
spoke much of Deirdire. I know of this from
Duncan Macniven, who spent his long life as an
itinerant teacher among these almost inaccessible
glens, which were tenanted by strong, robust people
of clear, retentive memories. Alas, hardly one of
these native people is now left on the land—all
having been cleared away.

Duncan Macniven said that when he was sent,
while still a youth, to teach there, ‘the people were
big, powerfully built people of bone and muscle.
The old people were full of old stories, and of old
rhymes, many of them scarcely Christian, but very
grand all the same. ‘The stories and poems were
about everything—the sun and moon and stars,

138 NOTES

the beasts and birds and fishes, old feuds and
battles and old cattle-raids. I was instructed to
unteach these, and to teach the Bible and the Cate-
chism. The people were most kind and most civil
to me, and striving who would show me most hospi-
tality. They listened politely to my Bible stories,
but when I condemned their Pagan stories and
poems about Ossian, and Oscar, and Fionn, and
Cumhal, and Cuchulain, and their wild beliefs in
the miracles of Calumcille and the other saints, the
old people hardly disguised their impatience and
resentment. I suppose, like most men who have,
or think they have, a mission, I was more earnest
than discreet, full of my own beliefs and import-
ance, and intolerant of the beliefs of others. But
the old people of those remote glens were grand
people, with all their old faults and wild beliefs.’

They had many stories and poems about Deirdire,
but they did not speak of her by that name, but as
‘Dearduil,’ or, more commonly, ‘ Dearshiila’ or
‘Dearthiila’: ‘ Dearshulanighean Choluim Chruitire,’
Dearshula, daughter of Colum the harper ; ‘ Dear-
thula nan cneasa geala bu bhuidhe loinn na oir soir
ghrein an t-samhraidh,’ Dearthula of the fair skin,
whose locks were more yellow than the western gold
of the summer sun.

Dearshula was much mixed up with ‘Clann
Uisne nan each geala,’ Uisne’s Children of the white
horses; ‘Clann Uisne nam miol donna,’ Uisne’s
Children of the brown hounds; ‘Clann Uisne nam
bogha brasa, bu leithne cleibhe na comhla dhoruis,’

NOTES 139

Clann Uisne of the quick bows, whose chests were
broader than door-leaves.

At the head of Glen Etive is a plain called
‘Dail-an-eas,’ dale of the waterfall. The water-
fall is not much for the Highlands, the cascade
being only a few feet high. From the foot of the
fall the water flows a long distance upon a bottom
of small boulders, bordered on one side by a per-
pendicular wall of rock, and on the other side by
a natural bank of stones. A gentle declivity looks
down on the waterfall, and on the clear crystalline
water running on the boulders, and away down
between the mountains and down the course of the
loch. A spot upon this declivity is called ‘Grianan
Dearduil,’ ‘Grianan Dearshula’—the sunny bower
of Dearshula. The remains of some building are
indicated in the green grass of the slope. The old
people of the place had a tradition—‘gu’n robh
grianan Dearshula air a thubhadh a mach le reang
-roinneach nan glac agus le ruadh chriadh nam
poll, agus air a linseadh a steach le giubhas nam
beann agus le cloimh-iteach nan ian’—that the
sunny bower of Dearshula was thatched without
with the long-stalked fern (royal fern) of the dells
and the red clay of the pools, and lined within with
the pine of the mountains and the down feathers of
birds. Here the deer of the hill could be shot from
the window and the salmon of the stream could be
fished from the door of the bower. The spot is
most beautiful and the prospect most magnificent.
The whole of this district was a royal forest, at

140 NOTES

least as early as the days of the early Stewart kings,
and there is reason to think that it was so even
before their time. Dail-an-eas, Dalness, was the
residence of the hereditary keepers of the royal
forest and is still held by their descendant. Two
Gaelic poets are intimately connected with Dalness
—Alexander Macdonald, the greatest of (Gaelic
poets, is connected with it through his wife, who
was daughter of Macdonald of Dalness. The
Macdonalds of Dalness were known as ‘Clann
Reamhair,’ ‘Clann Domhnuil Reamhair’—the fat
clan, the clan of Donald the fat. They were a sept of
the Macdonalds of Glencoe. Duncan Ban Macintyre,
who excels all British poets, Gaelic or English, as
the poet of nature, lived for some years at Dalness
and within a few yards of Grianan Dearshula.
Near the middle of Upper Loch Etive and on
the west side is a small bay called ‘Caitirle,’ and
near it is a small island variously called ‘ Kilean
Uisne,’ ‘Eilean Uisneachan,’ the isle of Uisne,
the isle of Uisneachan, and ‘ Eilean Chlann Uisne,’
the isle of the Children of Uisne. Though these
names still remain, the island is better known now
as ‘ Kilean nan ron,’ the isle of seals, because when
a seal strays up here this isle is the only place in
this part of the loch whereon he can rest and sleep.
In this sunny bay of Caitirle there was an orchard
famous from early times. It was known as ‘ Garadh
ubhal Chlann Uisne,’ the apple garden of Clann
Uisne. Special trees in the orchard were known
as ‘Craobh-ubhal Dhearduil,’ the apple-tree of

————

NOTES 141

Dearduil ; ‘Craobh-ubhal Naoise,’ the apple-tree of
Naoise ; ‘Craobh-ubhal Ardan,’ the apple-tree of
Ardan ; and ‘Craobh-ubhal Aillein,’ the apple-tree
of Aillein. The last of these trees became known
as ‘Craobh-ubhal Chlann Uisne,’ the apple-tree of
the Children of Uisne.

In Christian times the place became the property
of the Church and of the priory of Airdchattan.
In the time of the last prior of Airdchattan a
violent storm occurred, driving the waters of the
sea into Loch Etive, and raising the water of the
loch to such an abnormal height that it overflowed
the ancient orchard of Caitirle and the violence of
the sea destroyed the ancient tree. ‘Rob Pritheir’
—Prior Robert, sent skilled men to prop up the
tree, and brought a cargo of rich soil from Ireland
to replace that which had been washed away by the
sea. All efforts to revive the tree were unavailing,
however, to the great regret of the whole surround-
ing district. ‘Lann ubhal Chaitirle,’ ‘Craobh-ubhal
Dhearshula,’ and ‘Craobh Chlann Uisne’—the apple-
enclosure of Caitirle, the apple-tree of Dearshula,
and the tree of Clann Uisne—entered largely into
the old lore of the people of the place.

A little beyond the entrance to Upper Loch
Etive on the west side are the remains of an
ancient keep variously called ‘ Dun Bhanr’inn
Eireann,’ the dun of the queen of Ireland ; ‘ Caisteal
Nighean Righ Eireann,’ the castle of the Daughter
of the King of Ireland. No personal name is now
attached to these old ruins,

142 NOTES

At the mouth of Upper Loch Etive, and on a
point jutting well into the loch where the river
Awe joins Loch Etive, is a height known to the
old people as ‘Dun Dearduil’ and ‘Dun Uisne.’
No remains are visible now, though there are indi-
cations of a building having been there. The situa-
tion here is wonderfully fine, the point forming an
extended spur of Ben Cruachan, which rises up
behind. To the right is a long view of Upper Loch
Etive running up between its mountain barriers.
To the left is the river Awe, leaving Loch Awe
through the dark haunted Pass of Brander. Right
across the Awe at the foot is the land of North
Lorn, with ‘Coille Naois,’ the wood of Naois, just
in front, with ‘ Beinn Ardain,’ ‘Cruach Ardain,’ the
hill of Ardain, in the distance, and the farm of
Ardanaidh to the left. Between Coille Naois and
Beinn Ardain is a glen called ‘Gleann Aluinn,’ the
glen of Aillein, and ‘Tulach Aluinn,’ the knoll
of Aillein.

The ridge of mountains running between Loch
Etive and Loch Crearan ends in ‘Beinn Laoire,’
and ‘Beinn Laoire’ ends in a precipice called
‘Creag-an-iuchd,’ corrupted Creagniuc, Creagneuk,
rock of the angle, and ‘Creag Bhail-an-righ,’ rock
of the town of the king, perhaps more correctly
Bhalaire. On the summit of this precipice was a
fort called ‘ Dun Bhail-an-righ,’ the dun of the town
of the king, perhaps more correctly Dun Bhalaire.
Nothing now remains of this fort, the stones having
been hurled over the precipice for the purpose of

NOTES 143

building down below. In the neighbourhood of
Dun Bhail-an-righ is Bail-an-righ, the town of
the king, or Dun Bhalaire, the famed ‘ Barra-
gobhan,’ ‘ -nan-gobhan,’ the ridge of the smiths
or armourers. George Buchanan, the greatest
Latinist of his day, and a Gaelic-speaking man,
Latinised many of the Gaelic names of the
country, to the confusion of investigators, and he
converted ‘ Barr-nan-gobhan’ into ‘ Beregonium.’
This place was known by many names—‘ Barr-an-
righ,’ the ridge of the king; ‘Dun Uisne,’ ‘Dun
Uisneachan,’ ‘ Dun mhic Uisneachan,’ and corrupted
‘Dun mhic Snitheachan,’ the dun of the sons of
Uisneachan, Dun Dearduil; Dun Loisge, ‘Dun
Loisgte,’ the burnt dun; ‘Dun nan seachd Dun,’
the dun of the seven duns; ‘Dun Fhinn,’ the dun
of Fionn; ‘Dun Banruinn Fhinn,’ the dun of the
queen of Fionn, corrupted by Hogg and other writers
into ‘Queen Hynde.’ This place of many names is an
isolated ridge on a wide plain by the edge of the sea.
One end of the ridge abuts on a long strand called
‘ Traigh-li,’ the strand of water, fresh water, from the
wells and pools of fresh water immediately behind.

One of the two or three passes to the summit of
the ridge of Barragobhan is called ‘Bealach na
Banruinn,’ ‘Bealach Banruinn Fhinn,’ ‘ Bealach
Banruinn Fhionnghail’—the pass of the queen,
the pass of the queen of Fionn, the pass of the
queen of Fingal.

Tradition says that Barragobhan was the seat of
the Pictish monarchy of the west, and that it was

144, NOTES

destroyed by fire from heaven because of its wicked-
ness, and that hence the burnt stones on the ridge.
Barragobhan was a vitrified fort, of which there were
_ many throughout the Highlands, and of which there
are still many remains. It is said that there were
seven duns or forts on this ridge. Some of these
are still traceable and their vitrified walls still
visible.

The whole surrounding country is full of place-
names of suggestive and reminiscent interest. There
are still two tall monoliths and two huge cairns left
untouched, but other pillared stones and other large
cairns are known to have been carried away and
used for building houses, dykes, culverts, and road
embankments, purposes which have been fatal to
antiquarian objects of all kinds, including churches,
oratories, sculptured crosses, and sculptured tomb-
stones.

Upon the southern slope of Beinn Laoire, near
the ridge of the hill and near the site of Dun
Bhallaire, is a green grassy spot—the site of an
ancient burying-place. Nothing now indicates the
place or the purpose of this spot. <A lonely willow
tree bent with the load of age and the wind of
years grows solitary there. The last burial here
took place about the middle of last century.

The situation of the burial-place resembles that
of Cill Choirill, Lochaber; Cladh Chuirill, Cill
Choirirlein, Glencreran ; Cladh Choirill, Muckairn ;
Cill Choirill, Lochawe, all dedications to St. Cyril
of Alexandria.

NOTES 145

The beauty of the situation on Beinn Laoire, its
scenery, the variety of its associations, are probably
unsurpassed in Scotland. Facing south and towards
the left are Achnacrithe Beag and Achnacrithe
Mor, the hereditary home of Clann an Leighe,
keepers of the royal forest of Dail-an-eas, Dalness.
This branch of the Livingstones were of the same
family as those of Bachuil in Lismore, the heredi-
tary keepers of the Staff of St. Moluag.

Adjoining Achnacrithe Mor is Achnamba, once
the property of the Rev. Colin Campbell, the friend
of Sir Isaac Newton, and to whom Newton offered
a Chair of Mathematics at Cambridge.

Writing to Professor Gregory, St. Andrews,
Newton said, ‘If Colin Campbell comes to Cam-
bridge he will make children of us all.’

Colin Campbell did not reside at Acha-nam-ba,
but at Fearnach, across Loch Etive, where he had
some charge of a collegiate school famous in its
day. Beyond Achnamba is the priory of Aird-
chattan, in the burying-ground of which is buried
Bishop Carswell. The bishop is buried in a stone
coffin outside what is now the kitchen fireplace of
the Priory. Some years ago, while doing some
repairs to the fireplace, a mason uncovered the
sarcophagus. The skeleton of the bishop was whole,
with all the joints in their places, and measured
full seven feet. He is still,remembered as ‘ Carsal-
lach Mor Charn-asaraidh Tha coig cart na chasan.’

The big Carswell of Carnassary,
There are five quarters in his legs.

K

146 NOTES

Upon a high ridge behind the Priory are the
church and burying-ground of St. Baodan, the
patron saint of the parish. A short distance away
in Glen-Salach was a big ice-carried boulder known
as ‘Suidhe Bhaodain ’—Baodan’s Seat. The boulder
was broken up and carried across the loch to build
a house. | .

At the foot of Glen-Salach, by the edge of Loch
Etive, is Inver-easragan, the birthplace of Margaret
Campbell, wife of the Rev. John Macaulay and
grandmother of Lord Macaulay, the hater of the
Celt, but the intense Celt withal.

Across Loch Etive stands ‘Cruachan Beann,’ the
mount of peaks. The names of the separate peaks
are ‘Meall nan Each,’ ‘ Meall Copagach,’ ‘An Stob,’
‘An Stob Dearg,’ Meall a’ Choire Ghlais,’ and
‘Beinn Bhuiridh.’ ‘Meall Cuanail’ and ‘ Meall
Tionail’ are alternatives on the third, fourth, and
fifth of these.

Upon the western base of Cruachan, Robert the
Bruce and Macdougal of Lorn fought a battle.
Macdougal was a friend, probably a relative, of
Baliol, and admiral of the western fleet of England.
The battle between Bruce and Macdougal was fierce
and deadly. A part of Bruce’s army took Mac-
dougal in the rear. The Macdougals gave way and
fled across the bridge over the Awe. After crossing
they tried to cut down the bridge, but failed, being
too hotly pursued. They got to their ships, how-
ever, and sailed away to England. In passing
Galloway some of the Macdougals and their fol-

NOTES 147

lowers landed there, and their descendants are still
there under names more or less modified by time.
After the battle Bruce went across to the Priory of
Airdchattan, which had been built and endowed by
Macdougal of Lorn. Here he and his followers
held a council, the proceedings being in Gaelic.

West of the River Awe is Muckairn, a name
generally supposed to mean the cairn of the boar
or pig, but which is perhaps from mag, a plain,
and arn, airn, a steep rocky projection rising from
a plain or from water. A high rough wooded
peninsula of this nature juts into Loch Etive, and
is called Rudha na h-airde, but-the older people
call it Rudha na h-airne.

Muckairn is fine fertile land, gently sloping from
the hills to the sea loch.

In the bay of Bunawe is a big ice boulder situ-
ated near low water. It is called Clach mo Neasag,
the stone of my Nesag, and probably got its name
from St. Nessag rather than from Nessa, the mother
of Conachar, king of Ireland.

Westward from Muckairn is Fearnach, the seat
of the collegiate school already mentioned, while
still westward is Cill-ma-Ruibhe, an ancient burying-
ground called after St. Maolruba. There are many
places named after this saint, one of them being in
Skye. An old man and an old woman from Skye
happened to meet in New York. ‘What place in
Skye are you from?’ asked the woman. ‘From
Cill ma Ruibhe ; were you ever there?’ said the
man. The woman promptly replied :

148 NOTES

*Cill ma Ruibhe mu’n iadh an cuan
Camus-fionnairidh fuar nam beannd
Robastan a choirc uaine

Is truagh an nochd nach robh mi annt.’

Cill ma Ree, round which ocean curves,
Camus fionnary cold of the mountains,
Robastan of the green oats,

Sad that I to-night am not there.

The two old people had been playmates before
their fathers and mothers, with many more fathers
and mothers, had been evicted and transported
across the Atlantic Ocean.

Another saint—Ronan—is commemorated in
Cill-mo-Rénaig before we come to Connel—Conghail
—raging flood. Other names for Connel are
‘Struth Laoire’ and ‘ Luath shruth,’ swift current.
The name is applied to the rapids or sea waterfall
caused by a reef of rocks lying in mid-channel
between Benderloch and Lorn. The strait is
narrow and is bounded upon either side by rocks.
The water rushing from and to the open sea
through this constricted passage causes a dangerous
fall.

‘ Conghail nan cranna-choill ura.’

Connel of the forest of fresh trees.

Old men in the place said that there was a great
forest of trees on either side of Connel, where now
there are only great peat mosses. They said that
mointeach mér Acha na crithe was once a great

NOTES 149

forest of trees, and that the forest was burnt by
foreign invaders. That the peat moss of Acha-na-
crithe was once a forest is evident from the remains
of trees underlying the peat. Moreover, the trees
and moss are alike modern peat moss, the fibre of -
the moss being still flaky, undigested and un-
assimilated, and of poor quality as fuel.

A story is told in Lews that a prince of Lewis
was to marry a princess of Norway. Instead, he
married a crofter girl of Barra. To revenge this
slight the princess sent her witch to burn the
woods of Lewis. This is the reason why theré are
no trees in Lewis, while remains of trees underlying
assimilated peat are found all over Lewis.

West from Connel is Dunstaffnage, where once

the Lia Fail had its resting-place. A local rhyme
Says :

* Dun stuadh Sta’inis
An taobh tuath Lathurna
Bearnaraidh an iubhair uasail
An taobh iar Lios-moire.’

The gabled Dun of Staffnage,
Upon the north side of Lorn
Berneray of the noble yew
Upon the west side of Lismore.

The island of Berneray, with a tidal isthmus,
stands upon the west side of Lismore. On the
island was a great yew tree capable of sheltering, it
is said, a thousand people. It stood upon the edge
of a rock overhanging the sea. It is said that

150 NOTES

Calumcille used to preach below the widely spread-
ing branches of this noble tree. Calumcille said
that whosoever injured the tree which sheltered
him and his people would not be long lived, nor
would his inheritance be lasting. When Campbell
of Lochnell removed his residence from Lochnell,
behind Oban, to Ardmucnis, the island of Berneray
belonged to him, and he caused the yew tree of
Columba to be made into a stair in his new dwell-
ing. The new residence was burnt down twice—
some say three times. The builder was not long
lived, nor have his inheritors been prosperous.

The Pictish royal family of Beregonium were
buried in the neighbouring island of Lismore.
‘The place is known as ‘Cladh nan righ,’ ‘Cladh
nan righrean,’ the burial-place of the kings, and
*Cill an t-suidhe,’ ‘ Cill an t-suidhean.’ There are
many place-names throughout the country in which
the word ‘suidh’ occurs.

A deep, wide ditch and a broad, high mound
surrounded this circular burying-place. Somewhere
in the earlier part of the eighteenth century a lady
of the name of Macalpine died on the side of
Loch Awe, Argyll. She was very aged and very
greatly honoured throughout the country, and was
said to be descended from oat ancient Alpain kings
of Albain—

‘Sliochd nan righribh duthchasach,
Bha shios an Dun Sta’inis,
Aig an robh crun na h-Alb’ o thus,
*S aig am bheil duthchas fhathasd ris.’

NOTES 151

Children of the native kings,

Who were down at Dunstaffnage,
Who first the crown of Alban owned,
And still have native right to it.

When this lady died, people came from Perth and

Cowal, from Lochaber and from the Isles of the
West to the funeral, travelling over roadless, moun-
tainous land and over steamless, boisterous sea to
do honour to the memory of the lady and of
her race. The body was carried overland to
the old castle of Dunstaffnage, and rested there,
and then across the sea to ancient Barragobhan,
and there rested again, and then over the sea
to the rush- and fern- and thistle-covered ‘Cladh
nan righrean’ standing within its mound and
moat. Tradition describes the funeral as a won-
derful sight from the great number of persons
assembled. With the exception of an unbaptized
infant, this lady was the last person buried in
the place. Some sixty or seventy years ago the
farmer who rented the land—described as ‘ duine
burachail dona, gun churam Dhe, gun eagal dhaoine,’
an ill, burrowing man without the care of God or
the fear of men—removed the mound, filled in the
ditch, tilled the place, and planted potatoes in the
burial-place of the kings.

Eiteag is the titular divinity of Loch Etive, and
her appearance is said to presage storm and disaster.
When Eiteag is seen playing or heard shrieking no
one will remain afloat—boats make for the compara-
tive safety of the dry land, She is said to live in

152 NOTES

Glen-Salach, a glen running up from the loch near
Beinn Diurinish.
Tn Uist the Milky Way is called :—

‘ Slighe Chlann Uisne.’
The way of the Clan UVisne.

‘ Sliabh Chlann Uisne.’
Declivity of the Clan Uisne.
‘Sliabh Chlann Uisne
Nan cursair geala,

Is caoine beus
Na gleus na h-eala.’

Declivity of the Clan Uisne
Of the white coursers,

Of fairer carriage

Than the graceful swan.

In the Lay of Deirdire the Children of Uisne are
called :—

‘Chlann Uisne nan each geala,’

Clan Uisne of the white steeds.

Tricha cét: the territory of a twath or tribe. It
was divided into thirty ‘hundreds’ (whence the
name), and is represented in Ireland by the modern
‘barony.’* Otherwise, the tricha cét consisted of
30 baile biataigh’s (victualler’s town), and each
baile biataigh of 12 sedsreach’s, a seisreach being
the land laboured by a team of six. Thus the
tricha cét contained 360 seisreach’s. In all Ireland

1 So O’Curry, but according to Dr. Joyce there are
325 baronies, while there were only 185 tricha cét’s,

NOTES 153

there were 185 tricha cét’s, and as Ireland con-
tains 20,819,928 acres, the average size of a tricha
eét (including moor, ete.) would be 112,540 acres.

‘Coigeamh, the Fifth’ (of Ireland), here Ulster.

‘The hill of Cuillinn,’ mentioned in the Lay, -
evidently refers to the same place as ‘ Inis Cuilenn,’
the island of Cuilenn, of which Professor Mackinnon
says, ‘An Irish variant gives Rachlainn, ‘‘ Rathlin,”
for Inis Cuilenn, an island not otherwise identi-
fied’ (Glenmasan MS. in the Celite Review, vol. i.
p. 113).

I have asked Dr. W. J. Watson to write down
some things which he had told me, and he supplies
the following notes :—

P. 136. The river Ness appears in Adamnan’s
Life of Columba (written about 700 a.p.) as flumen
Nesa. The present-day Gaelic in Inverness-shire is
Abhainn Nis. Nesa, the mother of King Concobar,
was a water-goddess. Her name and that of the
river have been referred to a root, nad, ‘to be wet,’
whence Sk. nadz, ‘stream,’ German, netzen. Dr.
MacBain compares the river Neda in Greece, and
Nestos in Thrace.!

P. 136. ‘Loch Dhearduil’: the reference here is -
apparently to Loch Ardle, an old name revived by
Dr. C. Fraser-Mackintosh, and applied to his pro-
perty on the outskirts of Inverness. It appears

1 Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, xxv.,
p. 62.

L

154 NOTES

frequently on record as the name of a barony.
There is still a small loch.

P. 136. ‘Dun Dearduil’ is about seventeen miles
south-west of Inverness, at the mouth of the Pass of
Inverfarigaig close to Loch Ness. It is one of the
most remarkable hill forts in Scotland, consisting of
a small inner fort which is vitrified, and a large outer
fort. It is perched on a lofty rock, with a sheer
drop of about 100 feet on three sides. To connect
this romantic spot with the heroine is but natural,
yet it should be remembered that deardazl signifies
‘storm’ (glossed onfad, onfhadh), and in view of
the extremely exposed situation, the nrosaic ex-
planation ‘Fort of Storm’ is worthy of considera-
tion. ‘ Deardail’ is a variant of ‘deardan,’ storm
(cf. Scots dirdum?) It may be added that the old
Irish tale derives Deirdre pointedly from the root
of this word.!

P. 136. ‘Loch Etive’ has been equated with
‘Itis’ of the geographer Ptolemy (c. 120 a.D.).
The modern Gaelic is Loch-éite, older forms being
Eitci and Eitche.?

P. 139. ‘Grianan Dearduil’: ‘A rocky cone or —
end of a high hill commanding a romantic prospect
in the farm of Dalness, Glen Etive, Argyle’—(MS.
of James Macintyre, c. 1830). The ‘grianan’ or
sunny spot may be the part of the peak last bathed
in the sun’s rays, in which case ‘ Dearduil’ may
mean ‘storm,’ as suggested for Dun Dearduil. In

1 Windisch, Irische Texte, i. p. 68.
2 Ibid., ii. 2, p. 128,

NOTES 155

Macfarlane’s Geographical Collections, vol. ii. p. 563,
a writer of the first half of the seventeenth century
notes: ‘upon the northsyd of Glenlyon, Grinen-
dair-dyr, a hie steep hill.’ The name survives as
‘an Grianan’ the beautiful pointed hill behind
Cashlie.

P. 143. ‘Dun Valarie’: in current Gaelic Dun
Bhalaire.

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1648 Deirdire and the lay
C3D4 of the children of Uisne

1914

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